The man on the street held up the cardboard sign, waving it at the red light. I noticed from quite a distance back that the tall man was young enough to be my son—and seconds later, he launched the sign higher into the sky as more cars approached the intersection.
As I inched closer in my car, I hoped to see his face outside my window, and I found myself digging for a gift card so he could get a meal. I also grabbed not one but two verses from my little scripture card collections.
I rolled my window down, pulling ahead, as the light changed to green. One lone car sat behind me, so I didn’t hold the line too much. Just the one car, and he didn’t honk or get too close. It’s as if he waited for me to do my thing. Maybe the driver was as nosey as me. I recognized the man with the sign when he glanced my way, and I rolled down my window. I called to B. “Hey you! It’s me, Ms. Pam. Remember, God does love you!” He muttered, maybe, caught in his world of not-doing- so-good, and I didn’t understand what he said when he spoke, but the light turned green, and I had to move along.
