It didn't occur to me to be scared. Not then. I wasn't running, and the only thing running through my mind was a question. What could have happened to this man? What happened to him to bring him here, like this, stinking of alcohol from twenty feet away? Where were his teeth? And what was behind those shadows over his eyes? Fear? Hurt? Anger? What did life do to him? What did he do to his life?

Was there some place "acceptable" of him?

He kept asking it. That was his only question, over and over again. Each time getting angrier and angrier at our noncommittal responses. At our silence. Each time his voice rising, getting closer physically and emotionally.

Did I have an answer? Yes, I had an answer. But it was stuck in my heart. God would accept him. He was acceptable with God.

Underneath his question and my own, I was vaguely aware of the little pink knife clipped to my skirt, clutching the fabric, as if it was scared the way I should have been. I was calculating his proximity to me – to her. I was wishing my car wasn't full of my life, so that, if it actually came to it, I could save it. I could save two lives.

That's when I realized I was scared. I was shaking. I was scared knowing that my Irish heritage had brought him to us. I was scared that I brought someone so close to me also so close to danger. Scared that the sun was shining, and scared that I was scared. Scared that I had to be scared. People shouldn't be scary. Beautiful places shouldn't hold unwanted things. People shouldn't be unwanted.

Here we are, blinded by the mid-morning sun, people becoming nothing more than faceless silhouettes of something more, but we don't know what. It's wrong – it's empty. It's empty beauty. It's scary when you walk past a person but won't meet their eyes. When you smile at a stranger only to be slapped down by a glare. When you look at the river and the surrounding trees, and you're filled with fear of the unknown that lurks within, rather than awe at God's creations. When you see a person stranded on the corner, and you can't trust them enough to walk on the same side of the street. When all the cracks go unnoticed. When you know there is no place in this world where a toothless, homeless, crazy drunk can really, truly be accepted. Empty.

The sun may be out, but it's not shining. You can't see the tears for all the rain.