Christmas always brings memories. One such memory involves my friend, partner, and colleague Ron Loving on a dark, drizzling, cold night in Memphis, Tennessee, the week before Christmas.

We had secured the CEO into the Peabody Hotel. Ron had gone to the front desk to get some change.

He and I then headed toward the Rendevous, a restaurant known for ribs and BBQ in downtown Memphis. We were treating ourselves and planning how we would cover the CEO’s security needs over Christmas.

It was nearing closing time for the restaurant, and we were exhausted after a week of travel. As we approached within a block of our destination, a homeless man carrying a backpack and high on either liquor or drugs walked straight toward us.

Ron and I had practiced the protocols more than once. If the CEO had been with us, I would have skirted him across the street, and Ron would have engaged the person if required, as I ensured we removed the CEO from any harm. Tonight, it was the two of us, and following protocols, I dropped back, stood ready, pulled my phone out, and observed closely.

Ron continued forward, reaching into his right pocket. I knew it wasn’t a weapon of any kind. He abhorred guns and knives, having grown up in the Ninth Ward of New Orleans. He was my point man because he was a big, intimidating hunk of a human being; if you didn’t know him as the “Teddy Bear,” I knew he was. I had to protect him from himself.

He pulled some money from his pants pocket. He put his arm around the man and spoke in a low and gentle voice. The man looked up at him, extended his hand, and Ron pulled the homeless fellow into him and gave him one of his great hugs.

The homeless fellow looked at me; I nodded and smiled. He continued on his way.

Once settled and dinner ordered, we talked about what had occurred.

“Chief,” Ron said, watching the drops of water slide down from his drink, “people at this time of the year need one another more than anything. And a fiver or two can feed him for the night. That man meant no harm. He was hungry for food and a hug.”

I relayed that story as part of my eulogy at my friend Ron’s memorial service years later. I learned from that story. Even these years later, I keep five-dollar bills in my right pocket for such an occasion.

That memory brings me to some thoughts about the season. Indeed, at this time of year, many of us are emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally, and even sometimes figuratively standing on the edge of a bridge. And many times, we don’t know what our next step will be.

And as Ron did, we need to grab them when we see them. Use both hands. Breathe deeply with them. Grab anything you can reach: a hand, an arm, a leg, their body. And hold them.

We can do it through a meal, a phone call, a letter or card, social media, a smile, or a hug. It makes no difference how you reach them; do it!

We are Jesus’s hands and arms. I agree with Ron; people are hungry, but not always for food. Sometimes, they only want to be reassured that someone cares enough to grab them and hold on for a minute or two.

Hold on to them with your heart and give them hope because I am convinced one person can make a difference.