Paul

Getting off the freeway on my way to the office this morning, the red light stopped me. Standing on the sidewalk is Molly, with a sign not unlike the photo above, but with her name signed at the bottom. I knew of her from her boyfriend, Paul, whom I met at the same corner about a year ago. I was stopped, opened my window and handed him a couple of bucks I had in my ash tray. We chatted and even gave him my baseball cap because it was drizzly. Then green light intruded on our light conversation and I drove off. From that little chat, I found out his name was Paul, and has a girlfriend who was sick at the time, Molly.

Back to this morning, I gave Molly a couple of bucks from my ash tray. Then I asked: "How is Paul?" She said "Excuse me?" She was stunned I knew Paul. She answered: "Paul died after last Christmas." Then green light. She gave me a beautiful goodbye smile and said 'thank you for remembering Paul.'

Tears came up as I drove to the office. And thought about the big stories about Michael Jackson life and death. For Paul? This story is the only one published in the blogosphere about a guy named Paul.

How about you? What story will they write or tell about you when you finally go? How would you prefer to be remembered: for what you've accomplished, for what you've accumulated, or for how you affected the quality of their days, maybe even their lives?

Do not be afraid when some become rich,

when the wealth of their houses increases.

For when they die they will carry nothing away;

their wealth will not go down after them.

Though in their lifetime they count themselves happy

—for you are praised when you do well for yourself—

they will go to the company of their ancestors,

who will never again see the light.

-Psalm 49 / nrsv