Everone Has a Story
Maria Cornejo
English 101
09/09/13
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 church. 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 I’ve 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 duffle bag as a pillow.
Every 2 weeks after service, my church hosts breakfast for anyone who wants to come. My dad 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 40’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 him about this man. 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,
English 101
09/09/13
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 church. 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 I’ve 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 duffle bag as a pillow.
Every 2 weeks after service, my church hosts breakfast for anyone who wants to come. My dad 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 40’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 him about this man. 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,