My newest homeless friend waved at me as I pulled into the parking lot. I hoped to pass out hand warmers and toe warmers along with Christmas cards to those attending the Christmas Eve breakfast, and of course, hang out with my extended family.
Once I parked, I joined him and saw the tears streaking his face. I quickly moved into mama-mode. “Today’s tough, huh? Talk to me. Who are you missing?”
“I’m missing my son’s first Christmas. He’s only a few months old.”
“Are they here in town?”
“Yes, but things aren’t good right now.”
Holding his shoulders and glancing into his eyes, I asked, “So be honest. Do you know how you can change this situation?”
“Yes, I’ve messed up.” He shared his troubles and sorrow, crying like a boy instead of a man.
I tried to encourage him. “Well, then, as much as you miss your baby, let’s use that to drive you toward becoming a father, your son would be proud of.”
He wiped his face. “Yes, ma’am.”
