This is a story about two very different people, separated by generations, who shared something with me one day last week.

Each was lost: one scared, the other confused. They never met each other; they both met me.

Our shared adventure seared in my conscience not necessarily a lesson learned but a reminder that things that may seem small to us can make a huge difference to others.

The first of those two people I met was a little girl I heard crying in my office building.

Such a sound is not all that unusual because child counselors share office space in the building where I work.

But when I left my office the young girl suddenly appeared, coming through the stairwell, alone and scared.

Since I office on the top floor of a 12-story building, I was not only concerned about where she came from, I was amazed she had found her way here.

The young girl was about 2 and was crying uncontrollably.

After I assured the girl that she was OK, we boarded an elevator to find someone who knew her.

I was struck then by her honest, innocent request.

“I need someone to hold me,” she said. I leaned over, and the child leaped into my arms.

Two floors later, we rounded a corner and found the girl’s mother. The woman didn’t even know her daughter had gotten separated from older siblings who had taken off in search of the building break room.

Another lost soul

While the memory of the little girl was still fresh with me, I headed home a few hours later with one planned stop.

At a convenience store I noticed an elderly gentleman asking for directions.

The man looked directly at me as though I could help.

I asked where he needed to go. He answered that he was looking for his home on Colcord Street, which was several miles away.

When I tried to explain how to get there, I could tell he was confused, not really sure about the directions.

I offered to let him follow me to his house and he quickly accepted, telling me that he had been driving around for several hours and had stopped and asked for directions numerous times.

As I approached Colcord from New Road, I waited for him to pass me, maybe even wave a thanks, and be on his way.

But he continued to follow me until I pulled over.

He still wasn’t sure exactly where his house was, though he knew its address.

So I took it upon myself to drive all the way to his house and park out front.

Even with that, he seemed ready to continue up the street to find his house.

Confused, I pointed to the house at the address he gave.

At last, he seemed to finally recognize the destination that he had been seeking for several hours.

I left with some trepidation, wondering if indeed he was at the right house.

As I drove away, I saw him pull into the driveway of the home.

But I had to know, I had to be sure he had arrived safely, so when I got home I looked up his name on Colcord Street and gave him a call.

He answered the phone and assured me that he had arrived home OK.

Double-checking

At my request, he passed the phone on to his wife who also gave me assurances that all was well, despite her worries about what had happened to her husband for so many hours that day.

While I hung up the phone relieved, I couldn’t help but reflect on my day.

First a young child, then an old man: God had brought into my path two people in very different stages of life, yet with the same need.

The need was much more fundamental than directions across town or a hug in an elevator.

The need was for community.

Gordon Robinson is president of Robinson Media Co., which owns the Tribune-Herald.