Finally, I stopped. Handing my backpack to my roommate, I told him there was something I had to take care of. And I did what I didn't want to do: I turned around. I'm not sure why; I just knew I needed to. And what happened next changed my life.
I treated Micah to a McDonald's hamburger meal. As he stuffed his face with fries and drenched the partially-chewed food with his drink, I tried to talk to start a conversation.
At first, he just listened, but then he spoke up, asking me why I came back. I told him I had to. That I couldn't really explain it, but just knew I needed to turn around. Then he told me something that I'll never forget:
"You are the only one."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I've been standing on that street corner for months, and you are the only one who stopped."
I couldn't believe what he was saying. I refused to accept it. However, he insisted it was true.
After about an hour, Micah and I shook hands and parted ways. I never saw him again. But I was never able to look at a homeless person — much less anyone in need — the same way again.
YOU ARE READING
Finding me
Non-FictionEach night, I got to hear a different story from my dad. He told me about the time he saw a UFO or when Santa Claus broke into his bedroom to give him a candy cane. I became the audience of a mastery storyteller, enthralled with the unusual and inte...
