Not Your Average Joe

It was pouring, pellets raided my windshield that night as I drove home. Less than a mile away, the corner that holds coffee shops, grocery stores, and restaurants reminded me of where I was after trailing through the neighborhoods lost. In the dark. In the rain.

It was a relief. At the corner I saw a man waving, his bike resting on the slope behind him. His shoulders hunched forward and chin tucked down as if to stop the rain from splattering his face. I drove past, my gut and my head battling whether to stop. Reason and instinct bickering inside. Running inside my house I grabbed some things into a bag for him and against my rational wishes headed back down the street. But he was not to be found.

At least I tried...at least that's what I told myself.

Deciding to be prepared, I left the bag in my car. Then there would be no excuses to pass up an opportunity the next time.

I met Joe the next day.

"Hi" he said, extending his hand.

"My name's Joe." Taking his hand, "my name's Jess. Nice to meet you Sir."

I wanted to write all about the conversation with this man because it was the most wonderful and encouraging conversation.

But that'll have to wait. Let's just say that he's not your average Joe.