Mike and Lucky

This is homeless man named Mike and his dog, Lucky. I believe I mentioned him before. Over the course of several months I got to know him as I began to paint in the park that he frequented and more or less occupied. He was the among most encouraging people during that project. Mostly, he was lonely and I didn't mind letting him talk about art or the cops in the area or his homemade tattoo set. I don't really know why I liked talking to him so much, but I did. It always made the day better. He always provided very much needed perspective on everything from what a bad day is to what my faith is worth.

It is easy to get swept away in all sorts of theology and philosophy, especially in the culture I was living in at the time when I met Mike. He was a constant reminder that nothing that I believed mattered on a working and practical level if it could not offer him love and hope. That is important to remember as I think about what it means to be human. Whatever truth I find only has value if a life can be built on it. That is my presupposition, I guess. I believe that there is intrinsic value in life and living and just being. I guess I believe that because I believe that man is made and not abandoned.