The parson was leaning over the church kitchen counter. He was engaged in a desperate race to review the sermon he’d have to preach in about an hour. The kitchen, he had settled on as the least likely place he’d be found. A movement attracted his attention.
He stood there quietly, staring and not speaking. His clothes were clean but definitely tattered. His left hand was gripping the rope that held the sleeping bag in a tight roll. The right hand gripped an obviously well-stuffed back pack. The parson stared back. The stranger, around twenty-five to thirty years of age, just stared back.
“Can I help you?” the parson asked.
“Can I use the bathroom, please.”
“Sure, it’s just around that corner.”
“Are you the pastor?”
“I’m the pastor.”
“If I leave my things here will you watch them?”
“I will.”
“Thank you.”
He put his pack and bedroll on the floor.
“Excuse me, please,” he said and turned to go in the direction the parson had indicated.
It was ten minutes or so before the returned.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” said the parson. “What’s your name?”
“Daniel, my name is Daniel.”
“Where are you headed, Daniel?”
“Oh, I’m not headed anywhere now. I live up the road. I was gone for a while; I hitched out to New Mexico and stayed there a month or so and then I started hitching home.”
The parson looked more closely at Daniel.
“Is home under the Fifty-three Highway bridge?”
“Yeah, that’s it. How did you know?”
“I’ve seen you with Matt.”
“Oh, yeah, Matt lives there, too.”
“Do you need anything, Daniel?”
“I could use a little money, not much, sir, but a little for a couple of hamburgers would be nice.”
“Ah, Daniel, I don’t have any cash on me right now, but if you can hang around until the worship service is over, I’ll get some money out of the plate for you.”
“I see. You want me to go to church before I get the money.”
“No, Daniel, you don’t have to go to church. You can just hang out back here, or you can go crash in the youth lounge in that building over there.” The parson pointed out a window to the Youth Activities Building. You can go to the store across the street. You do not have to go to church to get any money. There are no conditions on our gifts.”
“That’s different.”
“Well, a lot of people say I’m different.”
“Okay. Can I leave my stuff where it’s safe.”
The parson told him he could and escorted him to a room where he could store his stuff. He told Daniel he’d see him at noon. Daniel walked out Ten minutes later the parson entered the sanctuary, walled over to the church treasurer and told her to give Daniel fifty dollars from the collection.
The service started. Daniel was on the fourth pew from the back. When the first hymn was sung he joined in with gusto. When the prayers were prayed he placed his forehead upon his folded and interlocking fingers. During the sermon he was full of attention.
The benediction was pronounced. The parson began greeting the departing saints at the door. A nurse at the hospital ER paused and said, “I see you know, Daniel.”
“Tell me about him,” said the parson.
She told him a story of drug use, of family casting a child out, of his visits to the ER for treatments. She concluded, “I’m glad you’re helping him, and I know you are, he’s really messed up, but he’s a nice kid.”
The parson headed back to where Daniel had stored his stuff. The stuff was gone The treasurer said she’d found him and gave him the money. The parson thanked her and said if anyone questioned it to take the money from his discretionary funds. Then the parson began to stow away his stuff, robe and stole.
Edward Franks was in the room where the parson kept his stuff. “I gave that homeless fellow twenty dollars, Parson.”
“That was nice of you, Edward. Thanks.”
The parson headed down the hall in search of Ms. Parson. Nancy Appleton, a high school student, came bounding around the corner. “Oh, Parson,” she said, “my Dad gave that guy with the back pack and sleeping bag fifty dollars.”
“Tell your dad that was very generous,” said the parson.
The parson found Ms. Parson and the two headed toward the car and the fenced area where the parson’s trusted canine, Charlie Brown, was completing his morning of worship. Three people passed them each informing the parson of their morning generosity that combined equaled another fifty-five dollars.
At his car the parson encountered the treasurer. “You know, Parson,” she said, “I think several people gave that boy money. Thomas said he say him walking toward the church early this morning. Where does he live?”
“He lives about seven miles up the road,” said the parson. “And it looks like the Lord knew which direction to point him this morning.”
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