Forty Years

The following poem was texted to me by my friend Paul Roberts, someone who knows my story, and celebrated God’s faithfulness on my spiritual birthday, January 15th. “A cold dark night. A rangy silhouette with a wild mop on top. A lost, wandering soul. A weary thumb. A destination unknown. A kind and patient stranger….

Two Letters And A Greasy Burger Bag

It was early morning, July 17th 1978. I had just been told by a state police officer to get off the interstate. No hitch hiking allowed. Out of options, I walked a mile on a service road, hopped the fence, and stood on the gravel berm holding out my thumb. I had never prayed in…