Pilly, Fill-E or Phily?

Today, I got to spend some time with a special man.

What a cool guy. Phily reminded me of my grandmother Stana. Just sweet, meek, and contemplative. I didn't understand much, but enough.

I prayed for him and gave him 5 bucks when I first came over to him. I was driving around Orlando and wanted to check out some parks. When I drove to this park I saw Phily immediately and knew that I had to give him some money.

I parked the car and walked over to him. I immediately presented him with the gift and asked him if I could pray for him. I wept as I prayed. I felt such a huge amount of brokenness for a lovely man to be at this point in his life. I didn't know anything about him, but I knew that it wasn't his dream to be at this place.

We talked for quite a while. I showed him pictures of my family, and airplane I flew, cold weather pictures of my home in Wisconsin.

Eventually I invited him to sit down. He had a warm jacket on, short beard, and had a bunch of aluminum cans in his shopping cart.

I gathered that his children left and went to Miami, and Nicaragua. He was from Cuba. I asked if he was from Havana and he said no. I didn't understand what place it was. I wished that I would've known Spanish, but I knew the language of love and that's what brought us together.

Eventually I googled a Spanish-American translator and tried communicating that way. It seemed as though he was just thankful to talk even if I didn't understand. Yet, in some ways I understood. He had regret in his eyes and a lot of resignation and sadness in his voice.

Phily was such a beautiful person. There was a baptist church next to the park and I hoped that he went there and was taken care of somewhat by the people there. He smiled when we pointed toward the church and kept saying "Iglesias".

His fingernails and hands were rough and showed someone who worked hard.

What a priveledge to spent a half hour with one of God's son's.

He said he was 75 years old. Using fingers for numbers is a universal language.

As I said my goodbyes I held back more tears. I would've spent all day with him, but I felt compelled to move on with my journey and he with his.

As I drove away we waved to each other like we had been friends for years.

The deepness of God's intimacy impresses me.

What do we have in common. I fly a multi-million dollar jet. I travel the country. He pushes aluminum cans round a square park. He reeks of alcohol at 10am.

We are both children of the Almighty God. The God of our Fathers. The God that sent us Jesus.

Phily is my friend. I hope to see him again.