There was a gullywasher in downtown Houston this afternoon, and by the time my bus got to the park-and-ride, it looked as if a small tornado had ripped through. Most of the spindly trees Metro had planted after Hurricane Ike were either knocked over or split in two. All the cars were being diverted off the HOV lane into the park-and-ride lot, so it was gridlock trying to get out of there.

On the side streets, the traffic snarled around shredded styrafoam that looked like snow and a trash can in the middle of one lane. The traffic lights were out, so I prayed, “Jesus, help me and all these other people get through this light.” And we all did.

The next light, on the feeder of Highway 59, was also out, and even scarier. Traffic was inching along when I saw her, a homeless woman standing between the lanes with a walking cane and a sign scrawled “Need Help With Rent.”

“Please get out of the road,” I said, but she couldn’t hear me — I had the windows rolled up and I was four cars away from her. I hate it when people go into traffic to beg for money. There’s an extra layer of pathetic about that practice.

So here was my dilemma — do I give her money and encourage her dangerous habit, or do I drive on by her, an inch at a time?

A woman driver in the next lane over rolled down her window and stuck some bills out. The homeless woman took the bills, raised them to the sky and said, “Thank you Jesus.” I could see then that she had no teeth.

Another driver did the same thing and got the same reaction. It was a prosperous day for the homeless woman. Now it was my turn. I rolled down the driver’s side window and gave her all the money in my gym bag. Enough to buy a sandwich in the downtown tunnels.

“Thank you,” she told me.

“Be careful,” I told her.

Our eyes met and she looked as if she wanted to cry.

So did I.