Yesterday, something unusual happened that touched my heart deeply. As I was walking down the street, a homeless man approached me. He looked worn out and sad, with a tattered shirt and no shoes. He quietly asked if I could spare some money.

I felt moved and decided to give him $50 instead of the $20 he requested. He was taken aback and exclaimed, “Thank you so much!”

In a friendly tone, I encouraged him, “Take care of yourself.” I was surprised when instead of walking away, a smile lit up his face as he continued to look at me.

“Don’t you remember me?” he asked, catching me off guard. “I’m Ross, and we went to high school together.”

I was stunned. “Ross! Oh my goodness! I remember you now. We had a fight once, and you won, but I also remember you standing up for me when someone tried to pick a fight with me. What happened to you?”

His eyes dimmed, and he shared, “It’s a long list of the wrong choices. I joined a gang, got into smoking and drinking, and lived a reckless life. I left behind responsibilities, hurt people, and ended up in jail. Now, my kids don’t speak to me, and I’ve thought about ending it all twice. Here I am, just trying to get by each day.”

I felt a deep sadness and compassion as I listened. In response, I said, “I’m sorry to hear that, Ross. I already have food for today. Please take care of yourself.” He nodded, gave me a faint smile, and walked away, his steps unsteady.

Driving home, I began to reflect on how different our lives had turned out even though we had similar opportunities and backgrounds in our childhood. I realized what made the difference: my parents.

I had what some might call the “strictest” parents in the world. They set rules for me, gave me chores, and made sure there were consequences if I didn’t meet deadlines. While Ross roamed the streets and did as he pleased, I had boundaries set by my family.

While Ross skipped school without any repercussions, I faced punishment even if I was just late. He was free to speak disrespectfully to elders, smoke, and eat whatever he wanted out in town. Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of heading home and doing so.

Every meal at home was carefully planned, with healthy soups and water or milk as the beverages. As for smoking and drinking? I was too scared to even bring those up!

Using foul language or talking back meant getting a stern look and a subsequent correction from my parents. Thanks to them, bad habits and choices were never an option for me.

Today, I look back with gratitude. I’m the person I am now because of those so-called “mean” parents who kept me in check. I thank God for them every day, and they will always hold a cherished place in my heart.

That chance encounter with Ross was a poignant reminder that sometimes firm guidance is the greatest gift parents can offer. My heart goes out to him, and I hope life turns a better page for him someday.