Encounter with a homeless man

There was a man named Paul who wasn’t religious at all — just an ordinary man caught up in the rhythm of daily life, doing the best he could. His conscience was his compass, his “god,” and that was enough for him.

It was the day before Christmas. He needed a few last items for dinner — just another holiday that came and went each year.

As Paul walked toward the store, he noticed a man slumped against the wall about twenty feet from the entrance. The man looked rough — dirty coat, weathered face, eyes half closed.

Paul’s first thought was the same one many of us might have had: He probably wants liquor… maybe cigarettes.

And with that quiet judgment, he kept walking.

But as he reached the shopping carts, something nudged him inside — go back.

He ignored it at first. Then, halfway down an aisle, the feeling returned, stronger this time.

After all, it was Christmas. Maybe doing something kind would make him feel a little better about himself.

He turned around and went back outside.

The man was still there.

Paul reached for his wallet, ready to hand him five dollars — but again came that inner nudge.

He smiled and said, “Hey, how about we go shopping together? Get you what you want for tonight.”

The homeless man looked up, surprised, and said yes.

As he stood, Paul noticed sores on his face and hands. He tried not to stare.

Inside the store, the man walked straight to the pharmacy aisle and picked up cotton gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and a small bottle of aspirin.

“That’s it?” Paul asked, startled.

The man nodded.

“No way,” Paul said. “Let’s get you something to eat and drink.”

He had to insist, but finally, the man grabbed a ready-made ham sandwich and a bottle of orange juice.

When they got back outside, Paul realized he hadn’t bought a thing for himself. His own shopping list suddenly seemed very small.

The man looked him in the eyes and said, “Thank You, God. Praise God.”

Paul laughed. “I’m not God.”

The homeless man smiled gently and said,

“Of course, you’re not God — but you listened to Him.”

Then he turned and walked away.

That night, for the first time in his life, Paul felt connected to something greater than himself.

He had never been to Christmas — Christ-Mass.

Not one Holy Day, only holidays.

Not one single Mass.

But his wife — she hadn’t missed a single one in thirty-eight years of marriage.

When Paul told her he wanted to go to Midnight Mass, she was stunned.

Outwardly calm, inwardly trembling, she asked, “Why the change of heart?”

He smiled and said quietly,

“I had an encounter with a homeless man.”