I talked to my friend again, the one who told me about her fiance. It turns out that his name was Paul. He had the same birthday that I do. One of his traditions was to look for people having a bad day and give them a shell. It’s on these little shells that he wrote, “Luck from Paul”. When he died, his family placed a basket of these shells on his tombstone. Today, my friend picked up a couple of those shells. She brought it back to me. Inside was still, “Luck from Paul”.

It’s a funny thing, we were nice to him, nothing more. This simple act of treating him as we’d like to be treated, the act of realizing that he, too, was someone that had value, it was this that made him rethink what he’d thought about God and church.

Luck from,

Paul

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