Growing up in the Big Apple, I often take so much for granted. Each day, millions of faces pass by me, and each person has an untold story. When you get caught up in the hustle and bustle of city life, you often don't take the time to appreciate the small things that can make a world of a difference for someone who is less fortunate. I've always made it my mission to learn from others, hear their stories, and grow in my understanding of the world around me.

I thought I was doing a pretty good job until one man, who lived on the side steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral, stopped me for some conversation. This wasn't out of the ordinary. I was on one of my weekly "runs" in the city, where a group of young adults head out to the streets to provide the less fortunate with food, clothing, and good conversation. This time, however, was different.

I wore my "Pray Hard" sweater that night, and I had just come out of the Cathedral with some friends before heading home after our run. This was a few days after Donald Trump became President-Elect and Trump protests occupied most of Midtown Manhattan. Dennis, the man who stopped me in my track, asked me a simple question: "Why do you pray?" I was a bit shocked by his question, as he continued on, knowing that I sought some clarification. "Your sweater says 'Pray Hard,' but why would you wear that with the protests going on? You can be seen as a threat with all these liberals." I took a breath, grasping my rosary in my pocket and looked for the words to say. "Times like these are when the world needs prayers the most," I said.

That simple question led to an hour long-conversation with Dennis on the steps of the beautiful Cathedral. You see, Dennis wasn't just some homeless man that happened to have some bad luck over the past few years because of drugs or alcohol. Contrary to popular belief, he was clean and respectful. He took pride in his appearance. He had a family. He was a retired veteran who lost his family in an accidental house fire. While most people might have ignored Dennis in the street because he was homeless or perhaps because his question was too intrusive, this was the first time I allowed myself to become vulnerable with another stranger and allowed him to share his thoughts.

As we spoke, Dennis shared that the reason he asked the question was because after he lost his family, he lost all hope and belief in God. Dennis wasn't home when the house caught fire and he lost his family. He was deployed, and he blames himself for the death of his family. When he came home, he returned to solitude and entered a severe state of depression with other mental health problems, including PTSD. This made Dennis unable to work or to care for himself.

This made him homeless.

Homeless--not hopeless. Dennis' story is truly heartbreaking, but his story continues. Never have I met such a kind gentleman with a great sense of humor and such a positive attitude. As he told his story, Dennis noticed I was beginning to cry and said something quite unexpected. "Would you stop your crying? I'm homeless, not hopeless! I get by and I'm still dancing! I don't think your eyeliner is waterproof, pretty lady."

Yes, he actually said that.

It was at that moment that I realized we weren't so different after all. How many times do we think to ourselves, "Why try? It's hopeless." How many times do we give up after one failed attempt? How many people do we know in our own lives who have become so hopeless that suicide became an option, or at the very least, a conscious thought? We get so caught up in ourselves and in minuscule problems that we lose sight of the big picture. We have homes, we have a family, we have jobs--but that's not enough. We live in a city that coddles us, and we don't know how to deal with our problems. Yet, the tools are right in front of us, and we fail to realize it.

Dennis opened my eyes to a new world. In the face of poverty, oppression, physical, and mental illnesses, he is able to see the face of hope. This is a lesson that we can all learn from. He may never know this, and I may never see him again, but Dennis has become an inspiration for me. Through him, I have learned the importance of the untold story.

As I said my final goodbyes to Dennis, he shocked me one last time and asked if we could pray together. I hand make rosaries and always keep extras in my purse just in case anyone asks for one, and I gave him one. We ended up praying it together on a cold autumn night, in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral, in the middle of the Trump protests. A few others even joined us. Never underestimate the power of prayer. It was truly a beautiful night.

Appreciate what you have. It may be gone tomorrow.