I saw you today. I saw you as you reached with your little hand to pickup a package of bubble gum.  I saw your momma slap the hand and then jerk your arm so hard that I wondered if you needed medical attention. Oh, how you cried, and how I wanted to buy that gum for you. I mean it was just a little package of gum. I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today. I saw you standing handcuffed and two policemen were doing their duty as blue lights raged. I don’t know what you had done or said or stolen or worst. I don’t know. … but I’m thinking of you today with great hope that you will get through this and straighten your life around. Yes, I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today. You stood alone as the other children played. Two children ran toward you and pushed you in the face – then your tears gushed, not from the physical pain, but from a deeper hurt. Oh, how I wanted to have serious talks with those two, but I kept my counsel and my mouth shut. If I had tried to retaliate for you, then I probably would have been arrested.  I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today.  Yes, as you stumbled along with feeble limbs and pain written all across your face while you pushed the shopping cart. No, you didn’t feel well enough to shop, I’m certain, but who will do it for you?  I saw you today and I’m thinking of you.

I saw you today. The bruises were clearly seen through the thin and worn blouse.  You had one baby on your hip and two holding to your arms and legs. The expression upon on all four of your faces was almost identical.  You clearly pleaded without saying a word. What will tomorrow bring, because today brought terror to your heart? I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today as you lay in a dirty bed, not sure of where you were or who you were. When you did have the strength to call a caregiver for the simplest request, you were cursed and abused.  Dear Lord, how I pray for you. I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today as you drove that car like it was a rocket ship, screeching the tires, and squealing the brakes. It could be possible that today is your last maniac trip behind the wheel in that vehicle — and in this world. Yes, a collision with a pine tree can take you to eternity. I’m thinking of you today.

    I saw you today on the daily news program.  There you stood with a gun in your hand and a mask on your face. The nervous cashier couldn’t get the money out of the cash drawer fast enough for you, so you shot, and your bullet was true and straight. Yes, it was straight into the heart of an innocent victim.   I’m thinking of both of you today.

I saw you today. Yes, sweet, unwanted baby and so precious you are in the sight of The Lord and to me. How could anyone abandon such a sweet bundle of joy? I pray that you find your way into a happy home. There is a good family out there somewhere who wants to take care of you.  I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today as the car swerved and went across the yellow marked line more often than not. I saw you when the red light meant nothing to you and the car crash was inevitable – your only passion is the bottle in your hand. Yes, it will be just a matter of time before you take an innocent life and maybe your life too. I’m thinking of both of you today.

I saw you today. The ravages of your incurable disease have wrecked your life. The insurance policy has maxed-out.  You’re unable to work and it will take years to be approved for the government sponsored disability benefits. I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today. You were huddled in the back of a car that had seen much better days. You peered out of the window and looked at me. I could feel the destitution of your situation and your pitiful plight.  Was it drugs, alcohol, or physical and mental abuse? I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today, sweet parents, although your baby is over forty-years-old, she is still your baby, and the suffering that she has endured during the last couple of years has broken heart.  What can you do to relieve her agony? I’m praying for you today.

I saw you today. You’re over sixty-years-old, but now find yourself jobless.  Oh, they say it is the economy, but it is hardly fair that one who has worked the same job for over thirty years could be found in this situation.  I’m thinking of you today.

I saw you today. Your head hung as you followed the man.  His loud voice and insults were heard throughout the store, but you said nothing. It was as though you felt as if what you had to say, or to think was of no value. Oh, how I pray for you to receive the strength and find the voice of the good woman that you are, and realize that you don’t have to deal with this obvious abusive lifestyle any longer. 

I saw you today as you suffered from the lies and jealousy from people who you thought appreciated you. Yes, you sat there and took the verbal abuse. You sat there as a carefully prepared strategy played out and with loud voices and pointed fingers directed at your face. I pray that you regain your confidence and realize it the ones with the leering accusations who need the help. I am thinking of you today.

I saw you today and that baby is due any time now. Oh, what a happy time in your life – only you are in prison and the baby will be taken from you.  The pain of childbirth will normally be compensated by the joy of a sweet and cuddly baby in your arms, but not for you.  I’m thinking of you and your baby today.

Dear readers, I know you join me as we show compassion and lift up those who are hurting. Let us always remember, dear ones, these I’ve mentioned, but for God’s Grace, could be us.



Anne McKee is a writer and storyteller. She lives in Meridian. Anne is listed on the Mississippi Artist Roster as a literary artist and storyteller, and she is active with the arts communities throughout Mississippi.