Mike

Except for the feeling that I am going to DIE from the cold here in SacTown (it is 43 degrees as of 2pm), it’s been a pretty good week.

Apartment is clean; cats are snuggly; my hair looks halfway decent; I’m going to see my dog-pal Harry tonight; I have a place to live and all that stuff; I’m at level 50 in Farmville; my appointment calendar is MIA which is not so good, but I have hopes of finding it in my (freezing cold) car, but if I don’t, the new year is still young and my memory is (hopefully) functioning well enough to reconstruct the details.

So, yes, good week, but there is one thing that particularly stands out as being rather heartwarming (if not hands- and feet-warming).

After the 12th Night service on Thursday evening, a friend and I walked out together into the darkness and freezing cold and when we got to the parking lot along the alley behind the church, we found our dear homeless friend Mike sitting huddled up on a concrete step drinkin’ coffee and smokin’ a cigarette.

So of course we stopped to say hello.
Mike has a few mental health issues, but basically he is a quiet, gentle soul who has been living on the streets of Sacramento for many years. He has beautiful blue eyes and he is one heck of a survivor. He gives great hugs. I’ve known him for about 5 years.

Anyway, there he was and my friend asked him if he had a gotten sandwich to eat. There was a big overflowing potluck dinner taking place in the Great Hall, but outsiders were not allowed.

He said no, but it was okay, he wasn’t really hungry. He had gone in and got his coffee (he loves coffee) and he was fine with that.

And so there really wasn’t too much more to say…. But my heart was whispering to me about how much I like this guy. He never says my name but he always remembers me and we have sat together at church meals and church services and he is always up for sharing one of the many snacks in his backpack.

And I was feeling touched by his satisfaction with his coffee and his cigarette out there in the freezing cold…the simplicity of his pleasure. And his is such a familiar comforting face and well, I realized that I love this guy.

I love him in the sense of all that is good about “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”

So before I departed, I told him “I love you,” knowing intuitively that it would not be misinterpreted or taken as an invitation with a hidden agenda.

And he stood up and we hugged and that was that.

He went back to his coffee and his cigarette and I walked back to my car feeling (within at least) a little bit warmer.

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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About pjh95811

I am a writer and poet living in California. I love cats, dogs, nature, poetry, spirituality and the Pacific Ocean.
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4 Responses to Mike

  1. loloatlarge says:

    Love is so transcendant. God is good. Love is good. Life rocks. what an inspiration.

  2. pjh95811 says:

    TY loloatlarge! 🙂

  3. karen says:

    That’s a lovely story. There have been many times when I’ve wanted to say ‘I love you’ in the ‘love thy neighbour’ kind of way, but only a few times when I’ve had the courage. Well done!

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