Hobo Joe

His clothes were tattered and torn, but his face was soft and kind. His voice was soothing me as I spent my first night in the shelter and didn't know a soul. He was known as "Hobo Joe" from spending most of his life living on trains and in old abandoned shacks. He was an older gentleman, somewhere in his late 60's. His hair was a beautiful shade of silver and was highlighted by his clear, blue eyes. He had a round face, full of ageless wrinkles and tanned golden-brown by the sun.

As I spent that evening getting to know him, I found we had a lot in common. Our lives had both taken interesting paths that would lead down roads we would never regret. He told me of his children and late wife and how the love he shared with her would last him through the rest of his life. They were married over 40 years when the angels came and took her away. He wasn't really saddened by it because he loved her enough to last an entire lifetime. His children had scattered to many places and where exactly they were he didn't know. But he said that deep in his heart they would always be right there with him. It had been many years since the last contact with any of them. He showed me letters in which the paper had yellowed from time and being handled over and over. They were tear-stained and contained words of love, telling him that he would never be forgotten.

Life had never been easy for Hobo Joe. He was raised as one of 10 children on a farm in Iowa. The family was dirt poor, but always had a roof over their head, food on the table and enough love to overcome anything. Most of his brothers and sisters were either gone or he didn't know where they were. His mom and dad had both passed away several years ago. His schooling was done at home and his reading and writing skills weren't the best.

He told me a story that really hit close to home and showed me how much my life was worth in the eyes of a stranger. He left home at 16 and was on his own for many years. He met his wife; they married soon after and began to raise a family. Since he had no formal education, work was hard to find and jobs were far and few between. He finally got a good job as a ranch-hand for a little old lady and thoroughly enjoyed what he did. He milked the cows, fed the horses, tended to the garden, and made sure that the farm was in good working order. She was good to Joe and invited him, his wife and the three children to move onto her farm with her. She was alone and dearly wanted a family of her own. They moved in and began a new life – a roof over their heads, education for the children at the local school, and someone to teach his wife the basics of handling a home.

One day Joe left the farm to run some errands and upon his return, he found his wife on her knees in the kitchen in tears. The lady that had given them a home and a new start had died while he was gone to town. She left him the farm and told him to take care of it for her, as she had no other family to give it to. Her open arms and heart and won him over, and now her generosity … even in death … would keep his family from harm.

He told me that because of what she did for him, he now opened his heart and gave what he had to anyone in need. He said when I came into the shelter and looked so lost and alone, he realized then that once again an angel had been brought into his life and he needed to show her the way. Whether or not I was his "angel" is a different story, but the fact that he could give of his life to another human being is what mattered.

I will never forget him, Hobo Joe, nor will my life be the same. People are brought into our lives for many reasons … most of them we will never understand. Some give us hope; some give us heartache; and some give of their lives. But all of them leave footprints on our hearts that make a lasting imprint on us. He did that for me … and I am grateful that he entered my life for those few days and shared it with me.