With contempt the gentleman looked his way, and calmly walked toward his van, "Get away, you scum. Get a job," he said. "Any drunkard deserves your fate." He started his car and drove quickly away, his heart so filled up with hate.

But the man on the street--who was down on his luck--had no scorn for the pompous man. He just hung his head and shuffled away, his mind on his small daughter, Anne.

Just a few years ago he'd had plenty of cash, a fine family, a good job--a great life. But tragedy struck; his world turned all wrong: in an hour he'd lost house, son, and wife.

He'd been away out of town when he heard on the news that a fire had gutted a dwelling. As he turned his ear closer and caught the address, the fear in his heart started swelling. He swerved off the road and turned his car 'round, speeding quickly back to his house. "Oh God!" he called out. "Please let it not be. Oh please! Not my kids and my spouse."

And soon after that--oh his boss was so sad--but his job had gone to another. "The recession, you see; we must cut," he was told. "So I've given your job to my brother."

And now as he thought of his dear daughter, Anne, all marred and crippled for life, his heart nearly broke: why hadn't God heard his prayer for his children and wife?

"Hey! Can you spare me some time?" he asked then of the minister at the chapel. "I just need to talk to someone awhile."...But the preacher his papers did grapple. “Not now, my friend. I've a sermon to write. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow."

So the man went away; his heart was so sad. Was there no one to share in his sorrow? His money he'd spent on his poor little girl for treatments to help ease her pain. Four years, since her burn, she'd had medical care, with skin grafts again and again.

And now when he saw her, his heart nearly broke. "Why, God?" he had asked o're and o'er. Her hand held in his, he would kiss her scarred face: how her smile made his saddened heart soar!

Now he wandered about day after day; on a job he hoped to embark. A few chores he found, enough for his food, but at night he would sleep in the park. His heart was so heavy; his friends were all gone. Where else for some help might he turn? "Oh God..." He attempted to pray once again, but with anguish his heart did so burn.

"Hey! Can you use a new friend, Mr. Man?" he heard the next day in the park. He turned toward the voice. There stood a small boy, his eyes and complexion so dark.

The lonely man smiled and said, "Oh, yes, I can! I so very much need a chum."

"Come home with me then," said the lad, with a grin. "I would like you to meet my mum."

So together they walked hand-in-hand through the park. Like two age-old friends they did talk. "My mum needs a man to do all her chores. I've no dad, and my mummy can't walk."

Through the door of a middle-class house, the boy led, and loud to his mother he shouted: "I've brought you my pal. He is willing to help. I told you, you shouldn't have doubted."