Today was the day the ilovemygen revolution invaded Manchester city center for an afternoon of kindness.
My friends and I past a man busking. He hadn’t shaved or had a hair cut in a while, and his guitar strap was a rope of string. As I past, I asked if he would like some of the chocolate we were giving out. He didn’t hesitate to accept. I asked if he’d like a hot brew, at which point I thought he was going to cry. Instead, we bought him a large tea, toasted sandwich and a bag of crisps from the nearest cafe. He couldn’t believe it.
I can’t describe the look of amazement and appreciation on his face. He told us he doesn’t have a home of his own, he’s been sleeping at a different place every night. I doubt he’d have access to a computer to look up ilovemygen.com, He doesn’t know our names and we don’t know his, but isn’t anonymity a powerful part of loving a generation anyways?
“Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work – Mother Teresa”