6:30 a.m. walking in Ocean Beach. At the corner of Newport and Sunset Cliffs I say "Good Morning!" in my most cheerful voice to a man sitting on the curb feeding an eager group of pigeons. His wheelchair containing what appeared to be all his worldly possessions, was nearby.
He didn't look away from the birds who seemed very protective of their benefactor and he didn't let another breath go by before he answered me in his heavy New York accent:
"Say your prayers little girl! You don't know what a good morning is until you talk to the Lord!"
Okay, now I don't have too much time to wax eloquent this morning, but it made me think about "these people." You know, the ones that God loves so much....the ones that are marginalized by you and me?
Does he really talk to the Lord? Could he possibly know what a good morning is?
I'm thinking yes. But I never thought so before.
