So you come off the Interstate into that wounded part of town, and there he stands, with those woeful, pleading eyes. The cardboard sign says: “Homeless Vet. Out of Work …”

     It’s probably a scam, you think. Tonight he’ll laugh it up with his buds and tally up the loot. Probably makes $70,000 a year.

     Or maybe not. Maybe he’s a real human being in real human need.

     So now comes the what-do-you-do-next test:

     1)  Inch the car forward, pretend not to see him, and pray for the light to change.

     2)  Remind yourself that it’s dangerous to help strangers. Besides, if he’s a real vet, the Veterans Administration should take care of him. That’s what the government is for, right? And there are soup kitchens, aren’t there? Somewhere down here …

     3)  Scramble for your wallet, cautiously open the window a crack, and slip him a buck.

     4)  Scramble for your wallet, cautiously open the window, and slip him a five.

     5)  Hand him a religious tract with the name of your church printed neatly on the back. Tell him “God bless!” as he takes it. Feel content that you’ve done your bit to share the Gospel.

     6)  Reach under your seat, pull out a bag of Premeditated Kindness, and hand it through the open window. Maybe add a smile to the moment so the man will know that he hasn’t become invisible.

     The kit I’m talking about, pictured here, will cost you less than $20 to assemble. But actually, it’s priceless. Especially if you get your kids involved in the project.

     Our small group (thanks to Chris and Amy!) put dozens of these kits together so that we’re prepared with something beautiful when the opportunity comes. As surely it will …

     Betty and I keep one handy in both cars, ready for a man or woman who has no car, nor home, nor job, nor anything to eat for lunch.

     Premeditated kindness.

     A fruit of the spirit.