My Homeless Guy

I run Paul's shop in the Short North Arts District of Columbus. It's great- very urban, hip, happenin' (do people still say that?)...always something going on. It is a wonderful mix of the most colorful additions to our society. One of these additions is My Homeless Guy, Leslie.

I adopted Leslie as My Homeless Guy a few days after I took over at the shop in March. Or, should I say, he adopted me as his "Little Candle Shop Girl" about the same time. He is a large man, with a forever smiling face and bright happy eyes. He usually wears a tan long-sleeved shirt, dark brown slacks and carries a mysterious black duffel bag that appears to be perpetually empty. He is terribly paranoid, though, and is endlessly warning me of this guy or that gang...he promises me every day he's going to teach me Kung Fu. And he would want me to mention that his favorite movie is King Kong. It must have been the most amazing thing that has ever happened to him, because he can recite entire scenes of the movie and describe in detail how he was feeling during them. Someone gave him a free ticket a few months back. He's seen it once.

Every morning, he waits at the bus stop in front of the shop door quietly until I arrive. (I like to imagine he's waiting for something monumental...Godot, perhaps?) After I open the shop, he approaches the door with a smile just for me, flinging it open with abandon, once again knocking down the easel and sign just inside the door. I rush to catch it before it rains glass and wax, and just quietly say "Careful, Leslie."

He apologizes, and says "Hey, there, beautiful. You still married?" I say yes and ask him how he's doing. He proceeds to warn me about the gang du jour and offers again to teach me how to fend them off. "All you have to do is call me, Little Candle Shop Girl, and I'll get 'em for you." I thank him and he asks me if I've seen King Kong, and goes on to explain his favorite scene (the T-Rex/Kong fight, naturally). He backs out of the door after just a few minutes, says "You be careful, dear. I want to see you tomorrow." And he's gone.

Every morning, it's the same thing. For the first few weeks, I was annoyed. I was terrified that a customer was going to come in, or that he was going to get in the way of orders I was rushing to get out...or worse, scare someone off or break something. I tried ignorning him, but his dancing eyes and rosy smile were hard to overlook. Then a few weeks ago, I was reminded of a childhood parable...Jesus could be anyone. "I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

So I started forcing myself to see him differently, and after a while, it wasn't so hard. Now, every day as he leaves me with that toothy grin and sparkling eyes, I think, "There goes Jesus." And I look forward to tomorrow, because I get to see Him, in the flesh, every day.