We circled each building at the intersection, looking behind the dumpsters and down the alleyways, but still no signs of my new friend. Only hours earlier, I had encountered him at a nearby gas station, and now he was nowhere to be found.

It had been one of those dreadfully cold mornings leading up to Easter, and I stopped for a coffee as I waited for the Department of Motor Vehicles to open. While I was waiting in line, a homeless man came in asking for help. I stepped out of line to offer assistance, and he let me buy him a coffee.

Once we were back in line, I asked his name. “David,” he said as he reached out his hand to shake mine. As we formally introduced ourselves, I felt a wave of guilt rush over me. His hand was filthy, and I didn’t want to make contact, but I did it anyway. The moment we connected, my feeling of disgust turned into a sense of duty.

“David - Is there anything else I can do for you,” I asked.

“It’s cold out here, and I need a blanket,” he replied. “I stay just behind that building and I don’t have a blanket.”

“I’ll get a blanket for you,” I promised. Back in my car, I searched online for a home goods store nearby. No luck. At least I bought the guy a coffee, I thought to myself.

The DMV finally opened, and I waited the next hour for my turn. When I emerged from the visit, I returned to my house about 12 miles away to load up the family for an overnight stay at my parents’ house. The van was packed, and the kids were ready to go as we grabbed our last-minute items. When it was time to leave, I told my wife about David and how I had promised him a blanket.

She said we should take one of the handmade quilts we had recently acquired from her grandparents and bring it to him. “Are you sure?” I replied. “My parents are one hour west of here, and I met David about 20 minutes to the east.” My wife is a saint, and she said there must be some reason why I was telling her about David, so we needed to take him a blanket before we started our Easter holiday with family.

But here we were, driving around where I first met him, but David was nowhere to be found. We passed a few other homeless folks, and I thought about just giving one of them the quilt I brought for David, but something told me to wait. We drove in and out of buildings for almost an hour before finally resigning to the fact that David had moved on.

We jumped on the highway and made it a few miles before our three kids complained about being hungry. We only had three kids back then and generally avoided all fast food, but knowing we needed to make up some time, I told my wife to pull through the Whataburger drive-through. We were the third car in line and waited patiently for our turn to order. While we sat in the car, a homeless man started walking across the busy street in front of us, and my wife casually asked for the 50th time, “Is that David?” Not likely… we were miles from the gas station where I met him that morning.

To indulge her, I said, “Maybe,” and looked closely at the man. Wait! What?! It was him. David was walking across Northwest Highway and headed right for the Whataburger where we were in the drive-through line. Praise God!

My heart skipped a beat as I stepped out of the van with the blanket I brought for this man. I was shaking, and it wasn’t from nerves or fear. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment and the chance to see God’s hand in it all.

“David! Hey David, I met you this morning and promised to bring you a blanket. We were at the gas station where I bought you a coffee, and now I’m here to give you this blanket.” I wasn’t sure if he remembered me, but I could tell he appreciated the blanket. “I came back to find you with my family, and I cannot believe we ran into you here.” My wife and two daughters, Lorelei and Emilia, waved to him from the van while continuing to wait in the drive-through. “Can I buy you a lunch while we are here?”

“That would be nice,” David replied, and we went inside together. He said he would love even something small to eat, but I told him he could order whatever he wanted. He ordered the Whatameal with a burger, fries, and a drink. As I pulled out my wallet to pay, the woman behind the counter said, “Thank you for caring for this man. No charge, sir, we will cover this one.”

“Thank you,” I responded. “God bless you.”

David said he would find a place to sit outside to eat now that the sun was out, and the temperature was perfect. I gave David another handshake and promised to pray for him. When I got back in the car, my sweet daughter said how good it was that we were able to help Daddy’s friend, David.

My eyes were full of tears as I replied, “No, Darling. It was good that David was able to help your Daddy.”