“SALVADOR? WHO IS SALVADOR? SALVADOR DALI?” Such were the questions fired from the mouth-turned-machine gun of my daughter-turned Barbara Walters. The person/object in question was an inscribed baseball in the pull-out cup holder of my husband’s Camry. I’d had my Barbara Walters moment with my husband yesterday, so I could absorb the rapid-fire onslaught and field the questions with the wisdom I’d gained.
Salvador was the homeless man who had pulled his bicycle up alongside my husband’s car in a parking lot where my husband was doing some work on his laptop. He wanted grocery money. Unfortunately for Salvador, my husband is a dedicated debit card user. He gave him the 75 cents he had; then he gave him something worth maybe a little more – time and conversation.
They talked about sports because Salvador is a big sports fan and so is my husband. As they did so, Salvador started digging around in his backpack. He pulled out the baseball and tried to get my husband to take it. “A gift,” he said. My husband tried to refuse. Take a homeless man’s baseball? But in the end the Salesman was sold by the Salvador. Salvador’s insistence resulted in my husband accepting it, but not before he made a promise to his new sports fan friend. Taking out a Sharpie he carefully inscribed Salvador’s name on it. “There,” he said. “Now I will remember to pray for you.”
Salvador rode away never suspecting that a part of him was riding into our lives. Be blessed, Salvador…wherever your bike has taken you today.