I spy Jesus

Call Oprah. (Or that guy on Unsolved Mysteries if they still air that show).

We have a local miracle that needs to be televised immediately. Oddly enough, this incident belongs soley to my brother. Location: Black pits of Hades itself (also known as Woodruff Plaza or the South end of town near the car wash--ahem, the closer you get to the high school the closer you are to the burning flames of Hell and damnation). My brother chooses to wash his car in this area because the heat keeps him warm during the cold weather. He and his friend are finishing up and as they are leaving, an older black man walks up to the truck. He only has one arm. In his one hand he carries a brown bag and his clothes are very dirty. (He's coming from either Bimbo's or Southend--I'm guessing). He asks them for a ride and of course my brother accepts. On his way to the local apartment complex, the man begins to sing along to the radio. From what I've been told he's actually pretty good. Stopped at a red light, the man looks out the window at the high school. He turns to my brother and very plainly says, "I have a son." Grant nods his head in agreement, not sure what the man wants to say. The man begins talking about Vietnam and losing his arm. He stops suddenly and asks Grant, "You like history?" Grant is a little surprised and answers, "Yes, yes I do. I would like to teach it someday." Grant thinks to himself, how does a stranger seem to know this about me? Sketchy....
As they near the apartments, the man turns to my brother again and says, "Your life is messed up right now, isn't it? You've got a lot of problems to sort out." Grant admitted he was a little speechless...but says, "I'm just a little stressed out, that's all." He thinks to himself, okay, I need to get this guy out of the truck--we're going a little outer-limits here.
He pulls into a parking space and the man begins to reach into his pocket. Grant gets a little nervous sensing that something is about to happen. The man pulls out a huge wad of folding money. He holds the money out to Grant and says, "Take it--you need this more than I do." Grant immediately became suspiciuos and refused the money. The man thanked him and turned to get out of the truck. As he closed the door, he told him, "Thank you Grant."
My brother's face was white during his retelling of the story, so I knew that something was amiss somewhere. I asked all the right questions--did he see anything in the truck with your name on it? How did he know that you liked history? What about these life questions? Was he just drunk? (ETC)
Grant says the man talked plainly and bluntly. He said that he never gave out his name and has no idea how the man would know who he was. He seemed completely sober when he was talking to him--as if he was speaking another language and had no idea that his body was doing it.
Maybe its true--they take on different shapes and forms. Or maybe it was just a tired, old, veteran discussing life and times with a younger generation.
God dodged the flames that night.


Happy Valentines Tony!
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