I went to New York City a few times to deliver care products and blankets to the homeless. On one particular trip in January (I went three times, myself) I spoke with a man who was sitting in one of the cutout windows of the armory at Battery Park. He told me about his family and that it’d been such a long time since they had seen each other. They live(d) somewhere in the city, if I remember correctly.
I went again in May.
We were in Times Square talking to a man who was sure that God’s real name is El. He was passionate about it. I turned to see where someone in our group was when, behind me, somebody politely got my attention. The man told me that he remembered me. Of course, I was thinking how impossible that is – I don’t live there. He remembered me from the armory, he remembered the sandwich and socks and blanket. He remembered our conversation.
Six months apart, and halfway across NYC – I’m there for two days, and I find the same man!?
I took it as a miracle at the time. This was when I went to church. My beliefs have shifted tremendously since then. But I’ll never forget the significance of that moment. Because – it was built on the significance of another moment. How often do we get to see the impact we’ve had on a stranger’s life?
