“If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.”
—Mother Teresa

It was eighteen degrees. To say that I was not feeling Christmas-y would be an understatement.

I had left the temperate climes of Los Angeles to visit family in Utah for the holiday. I had barely slept and was on a mission to get coffee. After driving around for a bit, I found a coffee shop. I ordered a latte for myself and a hot chocolate for my wife, then headed back to her parents’ house.

Waiting at a stoplight, I noticed a man walking around an empty parking lot. He was wearing a knit cap, jeans, and a light jacket. He looked healthy, clean—not particularly homeless. I noticed a measuring tape clipped to his front pocket. He crossed the street and began scanning a McDonald’s parking lot, presumably looking for something to measure.

The light turned green, and as I drove away I watched him in the rear-view, foraging through shrubs, inspecting the icy pavement.

Either curiosity or mild hypothermia prompted me to turn around. As I pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru, he crossed the street and began surveying a dry cleaners’ parking lot, pretending not to notice me (who, for the record, looked way more homeless). I drove up and parked about twenty feet from him.

I rolled down my window. “What are you looking for?”

“Anything I can find.” he replied.

My heart sank. I looked at the hot chocolate in the cup holder. He’d probably appreciate this piping-hot beverage much more than my wife, who would be asleep for at least another hour.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” I asked, offering the beverage out the window.

“No, thanks.” he replied, and continued about his business.

“You might want to look closer.” I said.

He cautiously approached. As he neared, he could see there was a twenty-dollar bill tucked into the sleeve.

“Oh. Thank you.” he said, a sense of relief and surprise in his voice as he reached for the cup.

“Merry Christmas.” I said, and began to drive away. Then stopped and leaned out the window. “That hot chocolate is totally good, I swear.” I called.

“I believe you.” he called back.

As I drove off, I located a radio station playing Christmas songs. Finally in the holiday spirit at nine o’clock on Christmas morning. Driving in my warm car, feeling like the luckiest man on Earth. I was happy.

It was the same eighteen degrees. Only warmer. And just like that, for the first time in years—I wept.

Brian is the creator of oneword.com.