I Helped a Homeless Man Fix His Shoes Outside a Church, 10 Years Later, a Policeman Came to My House with His Photo
It was a bitter January afternoon when I stopped by St. Peter’s Church after errands. At the foot of the steps sat a young man, coat threadbare, shoes tied with twine, eyes hollow with despair. I hesitated—but something about his quiet defeat made me kneel beside him.
“Can I help with your shoes?” I asked.
He was surprised. I fixed what I could, gave him my scarf, bought him soup and tea, and handed him my address. “If you ever need someone,” I said, “come find me.”
Ten years passed. One evening, a police officer knocked on my door. “Are you Anna?” he asked, then showed me a photo. I recognized the man immediately.
“That’s me,” he said.
He told me how that day at the church saved him. He had taken my address to the pastor, reconnected with family, got clean, and eventually became a police officer. He’d kept the scarf and that scrap of paper all these years.
“You gave me hope,” he said.
Later that night, I told my husband, Ben. He said, “You gave him a second chance.”
I shook my head. “He gave it to himself. I just opened the door.”
Sometimes, the smallest kindness can change a life forever.
