The man whose name I don't even know.

I don't even know his name, yet I can't get the image of his face out of my mind. Like most emergencies tend to be, we got hit twice within fifteen minutes of closing the center. The very-pregnant mama who had literally been walking the streets all day with her boyfriend showed up within seconds of the gentleman whose name I still don't know.

Doing everything in his power to support his pregnant girlfriend, the boyfriend never received his daily pay of $50 for working an eight hour day because the owner said he would have to pay him another day because not enough people had stopped by for business. Each day, the father-to-be would take his daily pay and rent a room at a cheap hotel because saving up for a rental deposit was beyond what he was able to do to keep her from sleeping on the sidewalk each night. But on this night, we received a blessing: we found her somewhere to be. Somewhere with a bed, a shower, a meal. At no cost, except for their separation for there was only one space available for her. It was a sacrifice the dad was willing to make.

We rushed to get a few things bagged up for them when the stranger appeared. With blood dripping off of his forehead, and obvious bruising on his arms and legs, he was quite a sight to behold. Requesting a bus ticket, we told him that we would have to work on it the next day, that it would take a little time to research. As he accepted the bandages we offered him for his wounds, he asked where the bus station was and then took off walking. He didn't want medical help, only a bus ticket to get out of town.

Once the pregnant mama situation was settled, I felt a stir in my heart for the bloodied man. I began to drive up and down Harkrider street looking to see if I could find him and somehow check to make sure he was okay.  Nowhere in sight. I pulled into the bus station and went inside to see if he was there, but he wasn't. I asked the attendant if she had seen anyone matching his description and she said that he had just left. Thank you Jesus, he had made it! But where was he now? The attendent told me that he had walked around the back of the store so I cautiously started searching. I found an area that I could tell had folks staying in it, but I dared not venture too far in alone. I was very careful to stay where cars in the parking lot could have a plain view of me and what was going on if things got hairy.

I began to yell out, and then cry. "It's me! Sarah from the Ministry center and I am here to help! Is anyone back there? I just need to make sure you are alright!" No one answered. No one came.

I left the parking lot with such an ache in my heart. Thankful to know that he had atleast arrived at the station, I wanted him to know that someone cared about his wellbeing, and not that he was "just another client."

I went on to church and listened to our children's pastor deliver a message about Jesus' response when he found out that his beloved John the Baptist had passed away. How easy it would have been for Jesus to shrink back and demand to have a little time to mourn for himself, yet how he instead selflessly began to take care of all the people who needed him for medical healings shortly thereafter. I tried to hold the tears back again as I struggled not to cry in front of the kids, but I am sure the one sitting next to me noticed my attempts to wipe my cheeks quickly (it was my son).

I pray to God that I did all I could do to show the man,whose name I don't know, that I love him and hope he is alright. I pray he comes back tomorrow. I pray that he remembers us for our kindness even though we didn't do a lot for him. And I pray that I never compare myself to the people from the Bible who didn't stop as they passed the beaten man lying in the road needing help, but rather as the Samaritan who did.