I don't know if I'm remembering his correct name, but it's the name that came to me as I was remembering.
I had went out on my normal bike ride in the country. While most of my route is flat, one road has a somewhat steep hill. As I road to the top of the hill I stopped to call my wife. Then I noticed an old pickup truck across the road. A middle aged man was by the truck. He called to me a compliment for making it up the hill on my bike. He said that he was 48 and it was a tough hill for him to climb. He thought that I must be about 60. I told him that I was 62.
He said something about there being no true friends.
I asked him where he was stayiing. Nowhere. He didn't have any place to stay.
I said that we find God through the tough times that we go through.
He said that he used to believe that too.
I said compassionately that he mujst have been through some hard times. Have you been rejected byb your friends?
He came about the back of his pickup and brought a can of Shasta Mountain Rush to me. Because I don't drink pop I really didn't it but accepted it anyway.
I asked him if he had tried the mission. At that point he flared up and said something about they don't do anything for you unless you follow their programs and do what they tell you to do. After that he started cussing, and went back into his pickup. He motioned for me to go on. When I didn't go, he started his truck and drove away.
As he drove away I wondered if I could of handled it better. I had tried to "send" him somewhere rather than trying to help him myself.
Then I thought about this county that we are living in. There are no homeless shelters in it, no place for the homeless to stay.