What keeps us toiling on this mortal coil when hope is gone and suffering seems persistent? The sad answer might be fear, to plunge off a bridge or drink himself to death had crossed his mind but there was no guarantee that the deeds of this life would lead to a better chance in the next. Still there had been days when he ended up unconscious in the emergency room. There were undoubtedly many that would glance in his direction and judge him to a fiery doom as a hound of Satan. When his only sin was to follow one stray dog after another and having to fight for the scraps of food and survival until he was finally unwelcome. But we neglect to ask questions of these beastly humans, their mere existence is like an unforgivable trespass. No amount of Our Fathers can alleviate pain unless some amount of mercy is given not by heaven but by those on Earth. The man was a good man, but there was more to be seen then could ever be seen about him unless you sat there and waited...for him to come to you
And the man approached me, naturally fearful as if to ask for anything was suffering enough. He probably had so many negative results before that and only desperation kept him asking. His speech was slurred and the booze wafted from his body. I asked him where he was from and he replied a nearby reserve called Enoch. And then I told him I wasn't going to give him a cent, but I would buy him a meal. That is how I became friends with a drunkard with heart named Gerald.