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The tired lonely man pulled his worn army blanket up around his shoulders while trying to stay folded on a wooden bench half his size. He was near deaf, and nearly seventy. Right now he was wondering if he’d ever been warm. Of course back in August he thought he’d never get cooled off.
The shelter provided them used coats every Christmas, but that was still weeks away. Victor had ditched last years coat months ago to lighten his load. So tonight he lay wondering how many more days he would have to be cold. Then, would it be the same in the summer? Counting down the days of sweaty heat.
Finally, he fell shivering into sleep. A thousand people were passing by his bench. Most were rushing, some were talking to each other, all were oblivious to him. All but one.
The gentle bearded man stooped down to touch his shoulder. “I know your name.” He said with eyes that revealed he knew much more that just his name.
The people kept passing. Jesus stayed.
“I gave you the name Victor, because it is what you are.”
The man put his dirt stained hands over his eyes and shook his head. “Then you must have meant it for someone else. I’ve been loosing all my life.” he cried out.
“You have been in the battle, even on the front lines. But your victory is not to be found out there, it is in here.”
The man opened his eyes to find Jesus gone. In his place stood an open door. Victor could feel the warm inviting wind.
He stepped inside. The light was glorious and the peace even greater. He was alone yet less alone then he had ever been. And he was warm, completely.
A voice seemed to surround him. “I am the way, the truth, and the life. Victor, what you have come into can never be taken from you.”
Victor didn’t know if he was there for hours or days. At last he opened his eyes to a different light. There were strange noises that he could hear clearly for the first time in years. It was a hospital room with the sounds of a heart monitor, and another voice.
“Grandpa, Grandpa we’ve been searching for you a long time.” A pretty twenty-something with dark hair was holding his hand. She continued to explain to him that her mother’s dying prayer had been to find the father she had never met.
Victor smiled, he had never had any family and had long given up hope for one. He didn’t know how this happened but he knew he was warm and the hand she was holding was his. He would never again have fear the lonesome heat or the cold.
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