The Gift of Peace: A Lesson from the Streets
Frosty Morning - photo by Elizabeth Watkins
“A heart at peace gives life to the body.”
Proverbs 14:20
Sometimes lessons occur in the most unexpected places — and are revealed by the most unassuming people. Has this ever happened to you? It certainly did for me recently.
It was the week after Christmas. My kids and I were driving around downtown Colorado Springs, passing out “Blessing Bags” to the homeless in our city. Each bag contained a variety of essentials: a handmade card, toiletries, socks, hand-warmers, and granola bars. The kids’ school organized the project, and we found great fulfillment in participating. It was a chance to make a small but meaningful difference in our community.
We discovered that most of our blessing bag recipients were at busy intersections. Homeless men and women often positioned themselves next to stoplights, holding cardboard signs asking for support. These intersections offered a continuous stream of cars — and, hopefully, empathetic donors. Our interactions with the homeless were heartfelt, but they were typically brief. The light would change, and we’d be on our way.
However, that day was different. The man we were hoping to meet was not a total stranger to me. He regularly camped along the Santa Fe Trail, the gravel path that stretches for miles along the Front Range. Many people, including the homeless, use the trail. It’s one of my favorite running routes, and I’d often pass this particular man during my early morning runs. Yet, despite seeing him several times, I had never spoken to him. I usually ran at dawn, and he was typically asleep when I passed by.
As I drove, I told my kids where we might spot him, so they stayed alert as we approached his usual spot.
“Mom, there’s a guy!” my kids said excitedly. “Is that him?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, glancing toward the disheveled man as we drove by. “That’s him.”
“Hurry up and park!” they urged. “He looks like he’s leaving!”
“Hold your horses,” I responded, trying to keep the moment calm. “He only has one leg, so he’s not going anywhere quickly!”
I parked the suburban in a nearby lot, and the kids eagerly selected a bag to give. The opportunity to meet the man and have a conversation with him excited me, but little did I know how deeply this interaction would impact me.
“Who would like to come with me?” I asked.
“I would!” Andrew, my oldest, immediately volunteered. He’s always the first to jump into any adventure. My three younger kids made themselves comfortable in their seats, and Andrew and I climbed out of the vehicle. We crossed the parking lot and approached the man.
As my kids had noticed, he was preparing to leave. He was fumbling with his crutches and packing his things. His back was to us as we walked closer.
“Excuse me, sir,” I called out, wanting to make sure I didn’t startle him. I also wanted to gauge his mental state before getting too close.
The man turned around, his crutches steadying him as he stood. His blue eyes looked clear, his demeanor warm. He smiled at us, revealing several missing teeth.
“He really needs that toothbrush and toothpaste, Mom,” Andrew muttered under his breath as we approached. I couldn’t help but swallow a laugh at the honesty of my son’s remark. Internally, I agreed with him.
“Hello,” the man greeted us in a friendly tone.
“Hi!” I responded, returning his smile. “My son and I have a Christmas gift for you!”
Andrew stepped forward and handed him the bag of goodies. The man’s eyes lit up as he accepted it.
“Thank you so much,” he said, his voice kind and grateful. Immediately, I felt a sense of ease. He then extended his hand to me.
“My name is Virgil,” he said with a smile. His weathered face had deep lines, reminding me of well-worn leather.
“I’m Elizabeth,” I replied, shaking his hand. His touch was calloused but surprisingly gentle. Then Virgil turned to Andrew.
“And you?” he asked.
“My name is Andrew,” my son responded confidently.
“Andrew and Elizabeth,” Virgil repeated thoughtfully. “What nice names.”
I was taken aback by his warm, sincere comment. It was such an unexpected kindness from a man who lived on the streets. The conversation continued as I tried to follow his lead.
“I can tell you’re doing a great job raising him,” Virgil added, turning to me. “I’m really concerned about this next generation.” His voice trailed off, and he stared at the nearby park, seemingly lost in thought.
Once again, I was surprised. This man — a homeless man — was concerned about the next generation? It made me wonder what other thoughts occupied his mind. But unsure how to continue, I decided to wrap up the conversation.
“Well, it was really nice talking to you,” I said. “Have a happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year to you too!” Virgil responded with enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a special year! It’s almost 2025!” His blue eyes twinkled as he looked directly at me and then at Andrew. “You know, I think each quarter of a century brings something really special.”
I nodded, trying to follow the train of thought. I didn’t quite understand where Virgil was going with this, but I smiled and encouraged him to continue.
“When I traveled around Canada,” he said, his tone taking on a nostalgic quality, “I met a man who was 125 years old.” Virgil’s eyes became distant, and I could see he was reliving the memory. “One hundred twenty-five years old! That’s really old! So I asked him what the secret was.”
I leaned forward, intrigued. “What’s the secret?”
Virgil lowered his voice, as though preparing to share a great truth. “No war.”
I blinked, confused. “No war?”
Virgil nodded solemnly. “No war.” He stood up straighter, leaning on his crutches, and his face became peaceful, even serene. “That man, the 125-year-old, he embraced peace. The more I spoke with him, the more I understood. He had peace with others, but most importantly, he had peace with himself. That was the secret to his long life. And I believe it’s the secret to a long life.”
Virgil sighed, and his gaze softened as he moved on to another topic about technology and the next generation. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had just said: peace. Peace with others, yes — but peace with oneself. I felt as though I had just received a rare gift, a profound truth, from a man I had never truly known.
We concluded our conversation with Virgil several moments later.
“It was great to meet you, Virgil,” I said. “I really enjoyed our chat.”
“It was great to meet you too! Happy New Year!” Virgil smiled warmly, then returned to gathering his belongings. Andrew and I walked back to the car, and my mind continued to churn over our conversation.
“Well, that was interesting,” Andrew said, breaking my contemplation.
I nodded thoughtfully. As soon as I opened the door to the suburban, my younger kids clamored for my attention, and the afternoon became a blur of activity. But even as I went about the rest of my day, I couldn’t shake the powerful words Virgil had shared with me. Peace.
Let me pause here for a moment. I firmly believe that there are causes worth fighting for — causes worth dying for. I support and deeply respect our armed forces, and I make it a point to thank our servicemen and women whenever I can. But still, I couldn’t help but recognize the wisdom in what Virgil had said.
Ironically, it reminded me of a similar truth voiced by an ancient Israeli king, Solomon. In his book of Proverbs, Solomon wrote, “A heart at peace gives life to the body,” (Proverbs 14:20). He echoed this sentiment in Proverbs 17:22, “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” Again, in Proverbs 13:12, he said, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”
Isn’t it fascinating that, over 3,000 years ago, Solomon discovered the same truth that Virgil’s 125-year-old friend had learned? That the health of our hearts — our emotional and mental states — directly impacts the health of our bodies? And it’s not just an ancient king or an elderly man who recognized this connection. Modern-day scientists and doctors are also discovering the same thing: that your emotional health has a profound effect on your physical well-being.
I can personally attest to this. Over the past several years, I’ve experienced my fair share of emotional turmoil. Around the same time, I contracted several major viruses in quick succession. Even after the usual recovery period, chronic symptoms kept resurfacing. Concerned about my health, I consulted my doctor multiple times.
“Elizabeth, it looks like your body is attacking itself,” she said, looking at my lab results. “I believe stress is preventing your body from healing. Unless you get your stress under control, this condition could develop into an autoimmune disorder.”
Her words were sobering. But as I reflected on them, I realized how true they were. The stress, the emotional turmoil, had begun to manifest physically in my body. It was as if heartache had literally turned into body aches.
“A heart at peace gives life to the body…”
Taking her advice to heart, I began to make some changes. I acknowledged the stress I was under and started eliminating responsibilities that added unnecessary strain. I set boundaries with people who caused me repeated emotional pain, and I began intentionally seeking out activities that brought me joy. Six months later, I had found a more sustainable rhythm. The result? I felt more joy than I had in years.
“A cheerful heart is good medicine…”
Last month, I followed up with my physician. My lab results dramatically improved, and the autoimmune markers disappeared. These findings amazed my doctor — and me.
“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”
As we move into February, I plan to continue cultivating peace, just as I learned from Virgil’s story and the wisdom of Proverbs. I will laugh more, stress less, and strive to live with a heart at peace — with God, with others and, most importantly, with myself. From my heart to yours, I encourage you to do the same.