HIS NAME WAS MICHAEL

I met him while I was volunteering one night a week to stay over at the homeless shelter. Michael's burly frame would have been intiminating if it wasn't for his face that betrayed his kindness. He spent his evenings doing cross-word puzzles and always enjoyed hearing about what I was doing. Upon invitation he attended my church to hear me preach and later came a few nights to the evangelistic series we had. He never asked for anything more than my friendship. Eventually he was able to get a job (helping people) and then an apartment. Interestingly enough, after he had his own home, he volunteered at the same shelter where we met. After I moved away we kept in contact via e-mail and I would always know when he ran into one of my former church members. Anytime I was in town I knew we had an appointment to go for "coffee" together. I learned alot about listening and forgiveness from him. His laugh made my worst stories sound like they should be published. I received an e-mail in November that he had died. I'm not reflecting on the questions that go with events like this. But I am reminded that my life and your life is all about people. I am weary of the amount of times I am so self-consumed that I can't lift someone else. I want my life to be about people. that is, allowing Jesus' love to overflow. I read an article last week written by a woman reflecting on getting to know her neighbor and then him dying. Her point... to be more intentional on the opportunities to say "hello" and there will be less regret when we don't get to say "goodbye."