I parked the truck a block away from the chiropractor's office this morning. As I emerged from the cab, a voice from the other side got my attention.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," I said, as I joined a tall, slightly disheveled young man on the sidewalk. We started walking towards my destination mere footsteps away.

"I'm a 30-year-old homeless guy, and I choose to only talk to a handful of people a day to ask for help," he said as his deep brown eyes engaged mine with an apparent authenticity I've rarely encountered in a street-dependent person. "I'm originally from out of town and I'm trying to get back on my feet. I'm looking for a job, but it's hard because I don't have an address or a phone number."

Remembering my experiences at Outside In and having the awareness that Portland often leads the nation in terms of the services provided to street-dependent people, I asked, "Have you visited any of the service providers here? Portland has some great services to help people in your position, from what I've heard."

"Well, yeah, some are good, but lots of people hang out there that use drugs and drink, and I just don't like being around that."

I've seen this first-hand, so I believed him. And those eyes; those eyes pierced my heart. This gentle soul, this obviously down-trodden fellow traveler, this young man who clearly had some psychological imbalance that presented its own set of challenges in terms of integrating into conventional social systems...this being touched me. So, as we got to the front of the office, I stopped and asked him, "What's your name?"

"Raymond."

"Hi, Raymond. I'm Colin."

He reached his hand out, and I took it into mine. "It's nice to meet you." I reached into my pocket where I remembered I had a five-dollar bill as I said, "Well, Raymond, I wish you well on your journey." I handed him the bill and started to move around him to the door.

"Wow, thank you..." came out of his mouth, and I returned, "You're welcome," as he continued with, "...God." I realized then that he had already moved into his interior worldspace that includes God and that he was no longer talking to me.

Wow. Thank You, God, reached in and squeezed my heart as I watched him walk away.

I walked into the office and looked at the receptionist. "I'll be right back," I said as I walked around the corner to the restroom. One internal voice compelled me to go there to wash my hands. My training has ingrained the concern about contracting Hepatitis or TB. Another voice said that I needed to more fully experience the way that I was touched in that encounter. After I got into the restroom, I locked the door, walked to the sink and started washing my hands. I looked at myself briefly in the mirror, and I started sobbing. I felt this intense wound about being afraid of human touch due to fears about disease transmission. I felt a profound sadness about the ways we keep ourselves separate from each other. I felt a deep gratitude that I was able to meet Raymond fully in that moment, look him in the eyes, and do what little I could to try to help.

This all happened in the space of less than five minutes. I splashed water on my face, dried it with a paper towel, and walked out into the office for my appointment.

Wow. Thank You, God.