Recently, Diane and I were on the departure road from a fast-food
place. As often happens, there appeared a homeless man with
his sign, which pointed to his desperate lot in life. Whether to stop?
Imagining our left-over cash in our wallets, we said no, but then
backed up, for what reason we knew not.
Resurrection seems always a surprise. This man took our donation,
and gave us something in return. He mentioned that he was poor
because he could not make a living doing what he loved..writing
poetry, as on the tattered piece of paper shown above. A poem
that is worth infinitely more than our small donation..three people
seemed suddenly to be in resurrection territory, just then...