It had been a month since Jack had left the Jacob household and his condition had only gone downhill. He moved from the alley where he had originally spent the night to a part of town far from the Jacobs. It was a pretty lousy area, but, hey, Jack Kelly had spent most of his life in shady areas. He had basically lived on scraps he found and on the generosity of a church down the street for the last few weeks, while he searched for work. Three days ago, starving and freezing, he managed to get a job shoveling coal for a bar. He received a little bit of money in addition to all he could eat. Yesterday, though, he had been walking down the street with the three days earnings in his pocket and three young fellows had jumped him, dragging him into an alley and, after emptying his pockets, proceeded to beat him unconscious. When Jack finally awoke, it was midmorning of the next day and snowing. He didn't have the strength to walk anywhere, but he did make an effort to pull a couple loose boards over him as a minimal protection from the snow. Then he fell into a dead sleep. He dreamed of Sarah, of the Jacob family. He dreamed that he was warm, and dry and full....

Jack's eyes snapped open. Where was he? he wondered, looking about the room in which he lay. It was a simple room, yet warm and clean. Jack himself was warm, and yes, clean too. Wondering what had brought on this transformation, Jack tried to sit up, but the pain in his head stopped him and he fell back with a stifled groan. The noise brought another person into the room, one which Jack thought he knew..."Mush?"

Mush moved quickly to the side of Jack's bed. "Hey Jackie-boy." He said, grinning down at his friend.

Jack looked around the room again. "Where am I, and what are you doing here, Mush?"

"You're in my room here at the mission."

Jack looked more confused than ever. "Whaddya talking about, Mush? What mission? Where am I?"

Mush sighed and sat down. "I guess I better start at the beginning." And he proceeded to tell Jack what had happened over the last year. Jack lay silently listening for the most part. "And, so, I was walking the streets and found ya, laying in that alley. Boy were you a mess."

Jack looked at his friend. Mush did look different. "So, you got religion. What's it got you, Mush? Does it pay more than selling papes, or what?"

"Doesn't pay anything in money, except what I live on."

"Then why you doin' it?"

Mush almost laughed. But, looking at Jack, laying there with a half-perplexed look on his face, Mush didn't find it funny after all. Jack didn't understand, he realized. How could he? He'd never heard the Gospel before, never seen someone's life change dramatically when they realized their sin and, through the blood of Jesus, were brought to God.s

"I ain't doing it for money, Jack." He said quietly. "I'm doing it because I'm called to. There's something bigger out there than me that's commanded me to do this, and I'm obeying."

Jack just stared and Mush smiled at him. "We'll talk more later, kay Jackie? Right now you better sleep some more."

Jack cocked an eyebrow, then nodded. "Sure thing." Then he closed his eyes and, almost immediately, drowsiness overtook him and he was asleep.

Mush stood next to the bed, watching his friend sleep. "Dear God, save him." He prayed fervently. "Don't let him die without you."