The third week of every month, he travels down the congested road in his salesman shoes. Every third week, he passes homeless men. They are dirty, some with signs, others aimless, but all forming a derelict community.
One day about a year ago, my husband stopped. He had extra food from an event in his company car and fed the hungry. Some months he passes out chicken biscuits, other months, tacos. He always stops to listen to their stories. He isn’t sent by some church or fulfilling some ministry, there aren’t accolades or attention for his unseen acts. He saw a need.
Late last week, the third week of the month, he called me. One of the homeless men he’d been helping had a medical need and was in pathetic shape. Please read it in his words…..
He says he’s just doing what feels right to him. But to me, he’s amazing.
Because that’s the kind of man I married.