“Remember… I’m Paul.”

This is Paul. He’s 22 and according to him, suffers from drug addiction and mental illness. I saw him sleeping in the doorway of a nearby apartment building. I guess they ran him off so he found some shade under our dumpster in the alley behind our building. I went out to talk to him just now… and he wanted me to call his mother for him. I did. I introduced myself and asked her if she wanted to speak with him. She was hesitant and obviously anxious, but agreed. They talked for a minute or so. I didn't listen to the conversation, but I can only imagine what it must have been. He hung up and said she would not come get him. I thought, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

When I think of my own child and the immeasurable love I have for her, I can’t imagine the pain that this family is feeling. I gave him a bag of food and water with some clothes. A pair of shoes, some socks, a couple of shirts, shorts, and underwear. I talked with him for about 30 minutes about addiction and religion and getting better. I told him I was the last person to preach to anyone, but that his life could be whatever he wanted it to be. Nothing before today counts. You just have to make the decision that it’s time to climb up. He was very grateful for the food and seemed receptive to my pseudo psychology, and as I was leaving and shook his dirt soaked hand, he looked me straight in the face with his own piercing blue eyes and said something odd. “Thank you, Steve. Remember… I’m Paul.”

I turned and walked the 20 yards or so back to my door. When I turned around for a last look, he was gone. Everything I had given him was gone. He didn't pass me. There was nowhere for him to go. He and his care package simply vanished. I can’t explain it nor do I make any suggestions or claims about what that means. I only did what my heart wouldn't allow me not to do.

We are a sum of our experiences and Paul made me just a little better today than I was yesterday. I could have called the cops and had him ‘removed’, but I took the opportunity to redeem my own soul and practice the very thing I preach. I didn't plan on having a life lesson or a powerful reminder of where I've been. But it clear that I needed a message. And I think it’s clear that it was all part of God’s plan for me. I don’t deserve any of what I have, and anytime I can try to add goodness to my list, I do. My deficit is insurmountable, and that is why I’m thankful for a Savior. I’m not a preacher, nor have I said more than a handful of things (directly, anyway) on Facebook about my own faith. And maybe in doing so now… maybe that’s part of the plan.

Don’t take off the rose colored glasses. Otherwise, you will not see many beautiful things… like a chance encounter with Paul.