Today, I met Barbara

Barbara. That's what she told me her name is after we had been talking for 10 minutes while sitting in a room waiting for assistance this afternoon.

She's a beautiful woman, middle-aged, clean, nicely dressed, well-spoken ...

During the course of the conversation, though, Barbara told me she had been living in the local homeless shelter since October. She had always worked hard, she said, but then she fell and shattered her wrist and hand, went through a long healing process, which caused her to lose her job, then her home, then her pride and sense of self.

As I listened to her tell me how someone had stolen some small juice containers out of her backpack the night before while she slept on the floor (she hadn't gotten to the shelter early enough to get an actual bed), I could see the stress of what is her life etched in every small line on her face.

I could see that she is mentally and physically frail, and that no one is more surprised by her situation than she is.

All I could think is, how can this happen in America? Yet I know it happens every day, to all kinds of people who never thought it would happen to them.

When I think of the billions we ship overseas every year to fight wars for, and give aid to, people who don't even like (nevermind appreciate) us, I get angry.

When I hear of the breaks given to multi-billion-dollar corporations to the point where they pay no tax, I get angry.

When people who have never worked a day in their lives are better off than those of us who did it the "right" way, I get angry.

But mostly, I am sad ... for Barbara and for all those like her.

I'm also afraid, because I'm a single personal disaster away from being Barbara; I can see myself in her spot if one thing in my carefully juggled world goes awry such as it did in hers.

We need to look into the faces of those who are homeless and see ourselves. The point is that most of us are Barbara, but for a bit of happenstance.

I don't know what the answer is, but I wanted you to know ... for Barbara's sake.