Weaving and Bobbing

At five minutes to midnight, the last customer comes in the door, sporting a 3-day-old black eye."Montoya, you see a doctor for that yet?" Kevin asked. "Oh yeah, it's all right," Montoya assures us.

"Montoya, were you weaving and bobbing?" Kevin persists. "Yeah man, I was weaving, for sure. But I didn't do any bobbing."

"You got to bob, bro."

At midnight, we're all out on the sidewalk, and Montoya is still hanging around, happy for a few moments of peaceful conversation before heading off for shelter. He looks at me with his one good eye. "You gave me your card," he reminded me.

Of course. I remember you Montoya. The first night Deacon Sam was on the street with us, we put our hands on you at your request, and prayed for wisdom and strength.

Got to remember that, when you're weaving and bobbing through life. Or at least, weaving through life.