Unbeknownst to several hundreds of people I have an incredibly soft heart. Especially for elderly people, white middle-class teenagers who can only make a 25 on their ACT and therefore not get a college scholarship, people who eat alone, frizzy haired youngsters whose mothers will not buy them a Chi and of course, for anyone who has never truly experienced Jesus.
Like most people my soft heart comes out big time at Christmas. Especially around the Salvation Army bell ringers. This is usually because the bell ringers are often people who cannot find a job or are homeless. (I know this because for extra money in college I was going to ring bells.)
Today at the mecca of shopping in the southern United States I was caught off guard by two bell-ringers. The first was an older black man. He had a tambourine and was dancing like a drunken man who just won the lottery. The next man, I promise, was at least 85 years old. He had on a festive button-down shirt, an even more festive tie and then an amazing sweater vest with snowmen on it. He had his head shaved with a tiny, little Mohawk running down the middle. It was dyed green and red.
All this to say, need has no season.