I was eating ice cream and this gentleman walked by and immediately struck up a conversation. He’s homeless. He started sharing a bit of his life, felt he was maybe imposing on my time but I told him to continue. So he sat down on the bench. “I was born in Puerto Rico. I came to the United States when I was fourteen. I used to shine shoes for 90 cents. Life hasn’t been easy but I’m alive. I was staying in a room but I had to go to the hospital for treatment and when I came back the lady had rented my room out. So now I sleep on the bench in the park down the street. I’m sorry but I need to sit because I get tired. I have bone cancer. I’m dying. It’s okay. I lived. My name is Willie Rivera. Would you mind praying with me?”