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He is about fourty. He is wearing a white short-sleeve polo with three buttons and a collar, faded blue jeans and converse shoes with those fat shoe laces. His skin is dark tan despite his slavik birth, because of long days under the summer sun (the weather today neared 100f).

His dark hair is neatly trimmed but matted from sweat and lack of care. About three steps behind him, I smell the smell that signifies an alcoholic.

Coming from the opposite direction is a woman who is rather tall, big boned with a light complexion and reddish hair. She's well groomed and has sunglasses on to block out the harsh summer sun. She's leading two little children by the hands.

I hear the man behind me now, call out to them.

My instinct kicks in and i stop, turn and wait to see what will happen. I am ready to go and break up any problems he might start for this happy group of mother and children. I'm certain he's mistaken them for someone else or perhaps knows them as neighbors. Either way, I'm pretty sure I might need to step in to help the lady keep her kids safe.

But much to my surprise and much more to my dismay, the little boy reaches up and takes dad by the hand. Dad has that half drunk, half happy, half 'yeah I got a little boy so be proud of me' look on his face.

I turn and walk away and as I do I ask God to let me step in and help. I ask Him to give me the chance to 'step in to help the lady keep her kids safe' but in a more permanent way. I want to help her get the man she married back. I want to show them all that God loves them too much to ignore them. But for now I just pray...and wait...and listen.