All I could see was the back of his hand, which was holding his head. Both were covered with an extreme amount of blood which ran down the back of his shirt soaking it to a dark red. I immediately thanked Jesus for sparing my son’s life.
I said a quick prayer for the man on the corner. Not ten seconds later I was plagued by a litany of doubts. Why did I give him so much? What if he uses it for alcohol or drugs? I should have had a snack in the car to give him. I could have at least asked his name instead of only throwing him money.
