Everyone Has a Story Every Sunday morning, since I can remember, we got up around 7 a. M. And drove 25 minutes into downtown Cincinnati for church service. It was a cold early Sunday morning in autumn of 2010 when I first saw a man, who I would later get to know, named Kevin Moyer. Church was Just about to begin, so needless to say my dad was in a hurry to get inside and find a seat. As I scattered to get out of the car and fix my messy hair, I saw out of the corner of my eye a man lying down on the corner of the hurt.

As any typical naive teenager, I automatically assume that this man is homeless and is probably an addict of some kind. As we crossed the street to reach the church doors, my dad caught me staring at this man and gave me a stern nudge which meant to stop staring. Now Vive seen a homeless person before but there was something weird to me about this particular man. One thing that I noticed was that he was using a big, brown and green camouflage duffel bag as a pillow. Every 2 weeks after service, my church hosts breakfast for anyone who wants to come.

My ad and I would normally attend these events, because he was too lazy to make breakfast on his own. Well on this particular chilly morning in autumn, it was my church’s turn to host breakfast, and as routine, my dad and I go and serve ourselves a cup of coffee and we also grab a bagel. While I sat and ate this bagel I couldn’t stop thinking about this man and how he how he was doing considering it was in the low ass’s that morning. The more I thought about it, the more I felt sorry for this man. I needed to find Steven, my youth pastor who also normally came to breakfast, to tell IM about this man.

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I knew there had to be something I could do to help him, even if it Just was getting Steven to go over there and talk to him and offer him some breakfast because I was too scared to approach this man. I find Steven, standing there drinking his coffee by himself, and I automatically start sprinting his way. He asked me how I was doing that morning I replied my normal answer which is, “I’m doing fine, you? “. Steven replies with, “I’m doing very well this morning. Is there anything you wanted to talk about because it looked like you were in a rush to get to me? ND after that I told Steven how I was worried about this man that I saw outside and about the fact that it was quiet chilly this morning and he only had a very thin jean Jacket on as a coat. I ended up convincing Steven to go and ask him if he wanted breakfast. Three minutes had passed since Steven walked out the church doors and in walks a tall, thin man with a beard carrying a big camouflage duffel bag and wearing a red hat that said in big gray letters, a worn thin Jean Jacket, and a dirty pair of light wash Shares. Steven followed closely behind him. I saw that

Steven was chatting with this mystery man and pointing to the table that had a display of muffins, bagels, toast, and pancakes. It looked like the man was very timid so Steven walked to the table of food with him and poured him a cup of coffee too. Steven and this man walked over to an empty table and talked for what seemed an eternity to me. I was sitting at a table Witt my dad watching intently and somehow Steven felt me staring at them, so he looked up at me and tilted his head as if giving me a sign to go over there. I slowly walk up to Steven and this mystery man and introduce myself.

Steven introduced me to Kevin, Kevin Moyer. He was 34 years old and he was homeless. Kevin began to share his story with Steven and I and he told us that he had been enlisted in the Marines but after he served four years he came back and couldn’t find a Job and had to stay with his mom. His mom and he had a big blowout and he got kicked out, and as a result he ended up on the streets. Steven asked if we could help him by taking him to a shelter and he said yes. So after he was done eating and we were done talking we drove him to the closest shelter. I had never thought that a man who served