The woman who slouched in the front seat of the bus distressed me. Her hair was matted, her face dirty, and though it was a cold night outside, she was wearing only a flimsy cotton dress and a blanket through which she had torn hole for her arms.

What should I do? I wondered. She was so obviously in need. And at Christmas time too. Wasn't there some shelter somewhere I could direct her to, some place where she'd get all the attention she required? No, I finally responded, her problems are too much for me.