The Homeless Man

by Lila Colloton

As my granddaughter Tiffany, and I settled into our hotel room in Chicago last year I glanced out of the window and I saw him.
“Look Tiff,” I said, “that's a man that has no place to live, so he lives on the street.” 
She looked to where I was pointing, and turned back to what she was doing. “So, what are you going to do, grandma?” she asked. 
Tiffany knew me too well. She knew that I hated to see anyone hurting. “I don't know, Tiffany,” I said, “but I hope there is some way I can do something to help him.”
Tiffany and I did many things during our special time together. We went to Navy Pier, the museums, and visited the American Girl Building (which is an adventure in itself), but my mind kept returning to the man sitting on the sidewalk across from the hotel. Each time we returned to our room I would look out of the window and see him sitting in the same place. Occasionally people would drop a coin or two in his hat, or maybe a pack of gum or cigarettes, and he would raise his head and nod a thank you, but it didn't look like he spoke very much.
Later that day, I heard a voice within me say, 'Give him a Bible.' I give Bibles to truckers at home, but I wasn't at home and the only Bible I had available was the one in the room. I surely didn't want to take that one, because I thought that would be stealing. So we went down to the lobby and I asked the manager if there was a place I might buy a Bible. 
“I can probably get you a free Bible, “the manager said. “What do you want it for?” I told him that I wanted to give it to the man sitting on the sidewalk across the street. Suddenly he had this curious look on his face as he said. “You want to give it to Charlie….? He's mean!”
“I don't care if he's mean,” I answered, “I just feel like I should give him a Bible.” 
“Well, I guess it would be all right,” he said, “but wait until I get the security guard just in case something happens.” So as my granddaughter, the manager, and the security guard stood by the window, I boldly walked across the street holding the Bible in my hand.
“Hello Charlie,” I said, as I touched his arm. “I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I want to be your friend. But Jesus loves you even more. He wanted me to give you this.” I handed him the Bible. “Do you know who Jesus is? Have you ever had a Bible?”
He shook his head as he turned around to face me. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “No one has ever given me a Bible before,” he said as his voice choked with tears. All the while he was clutching the Bible to his chest. I gave Charlie another quick hug and went back to the hotel, to assure the manager I was all right.
Later that afternoon I once again looked across the street and Charlie was reading the Bible.
I have no idea what happened to him. Maybe he's still sitting on the sidewalk waiting for handouts. Or maybe he asked Jesus to come into his life.
All I know is that I feel blessed that God used me as a vessel to get Charlie's attention. I believe that God will do the rest.