God exists during Finals Week, too.

Yesterday I met a woman named Ruth. I learned a lot of things about her during our conversation under the bridge as cars carved out their own little pathways home. She kept moving her hands as she told me about montana and vendor wars and her daughter's college scholarship. She is writing about these things too, or at least in the midst of doing so. She wants to be a writer; I told her she already is one: "You have a story and you can't help but share it, can't help but write it down."

"And I have empathy," She said, "Do you know the difference between sympathy and empathy?"

" I don't know, tell me."

"Sympathy... sympathy is feeling sorry for somebody. Feeling pity. It is a very distant emotion.... it sets you apart from whoever is struggling... whoever is having a hard time. Empathy, that's different. My roommate has no empathy, he's a narcissist, ha. But when you have empathy you enter into another's suffering - you bring yourself back down (or up) to their level. you know?"

"yeah, I understand. I think your right, Ruth."

"I am... Did I tell you I've been to Montana? ...."

At the close of our conversation she handed me something from her white plastic bag. "For the writer," she said. A small wooden journal with a cross etched on the cover, the name Jesus written in cheesy cursive on the outside. The pages were blank.

"I got it as a gift from my friend when I broke my back last year. Take it."

"No, no thank you I can't take this journal from you." I stuttered the words.

"Yes you will because I'm a Native American! and we believe in giving - you gave to me now I'm giving to you. You have to take it."

I took it and set it down on the seat of my car as I drove away. In the rearview I saw her heading for Mo's. She was going to buy beer with the five dollars I had given her for the newspaper, she had already told me so. Oh well, that is what happens. People don't change on the basis of one conversation. At least not Real Change. A friendship, thats where the meaningful part of things kicks in.

And you know what? Beer isn't the worst thing to spend five dollars on, anyways.

The most unexpected people give you Jesus. It always happens this way.