Santa Claus came to the Mission on a City Bus today.

Driving behind the bus on my way to work, it stopped at the corner next to the Rescue Mission to pick up a passenger. I bet the driver gets a lot of "regulars" at that corner I thought, as the bus started up again, only to stop only 20 yards further. I wasn't impatient, only curious, as I work at the Mission, and was glad that the driver was probably being kind to someone who had forgotten to get off.

That was when I saw Santa Claus step down, with a torn blue hoodie and carrying his possessions - er toys, in a grocery bag. The bus moved on as I swung into the alley leading to the Mission employee parking lot and glancing I saw that the passenger had stepped up to an unused door, kept locked. I thought about jumping out of my car to direct him, then saw he would find the way himself.

Coming into the building, it was 1 twenty something...if I moved fast I could grab a quick bite to eat before starting my day - the kitchen closes at 1:30. They were taking up the food but I successfully cajoled the cook into giving me a plate. Which is why he had to make the same exception for two other stragglers that had come in late... and how I found myself inviting "Santa" to sit at my table in the large (now empty) dining room.

With very little whitening the man's beard could be snowy white, and he had curly white hair, blue eyes with a short pleasantly round red nose. The only thing missing was that he wasn't really all that jolly. Not angry, or sad, just subdued. I couldn't blame him - he had been walking about in -5 wind chill weather without a coat.

Mike, as he introduced himself, had found himself without a job, after losing his transportation not having the money to replace the transmission in his 1996 Chevy Caravan (I have a 1998) - and his home was or had been "on the very top of a remote mountain near Blacksburg"

There probably is more to his story, but I will never know it, as we kept the conversation light. People come through the mission like fall leaves swirling down a creek. Some stay awhile, then move - or get pushed on downstream by circumstances. But sometimes, you make a connection, a moment that makes you feel like you are just two friends having unexpectedly met at the local diner.

I just hope Santa finds his way home in time for Christmas. Til then we'll give him a coat and a warm bed. And in case anyone is wondering, no, I didn't tell him he looked like Santa. I thought about it, but didn't.