I met another homeless man today. His name was Ricky and he smiled at me in the most genuine way and said, "Merry Christmas!"
I was so nervous to talk to him. There's something that just makes it hard to look a person in the eye after you've walked past them, trying to forget their presence, a couple of times. Yeah, I walked right past him. And then I felt that tug on my heart again and I turned around and introduced myself.
We ended up talking for maybe 30 seconds. I was so afraid that I would say the wrong thing; I couldn't find any courage to ask him about his story, even though I knew that's what I was supposed to do.
So my prayer today is for courage, courage to do the things that God has pressed on my heart.
In other news, Rheanna's Quest Towards Being As Awkward As Possible is still going strong. I got lost in San Dimas after the "AH! You're running out of gas!" light came on in my car and I raced off the freeway in a panic, frantically searching for a gas station. I then proceeded to completely forget my zip code, which apparently you need to pay for gas with a debit card at certain gas stations.
No worries, though. Ugly Betty is full of gas and safe in the school parking lot. And I am safe in my dormroom, content after a night of music and poetry and bizarre Christmas antics.
The logs on the fire fill me with desire to see you and to say that I wish you Merry Christmas.
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