So I called Rick back on Friday night as promised. In fact, the last thing he said to me before I left him on Tuesday was, “You’re going to call me Friday night, right?” I assured him I would.
I called about 8 pm. He answered, “Hey, what’s up?”
I said, “Hi, this is Pastor Bill.”
“Yeah. What’s up.”
“Well, I promised I would call and see if you got into your new place alright.”
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She left me. Went back home.”
I said, “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“Well, no sense crying over spilled milk.”
“Uh..OK…well, I be praying for you.”
And then he hung up. That was it. For a guy who needed my help so much on Tuesday, he hardly knew me on Friday. There were lots of other voices in the background, possibly from a bar. As much as I wanted to believe differently, I won’t see him again.
My instincts were pretty good on this one. So I helped out, but perhaps not in the best way. But you never know till it’s over. I have to admit, his story and approach were pretty smooth. Like he had done this before. A lot.