I woke up to the sound of KBVM -- and the chirpy announcer explaining that it was "the solemnity of the feast of the Sacred Heart." I decided to wear the Jesus shirt I had ironically purchased at an adult book store to DTC. Father Bob noticed when I walked in and gave me a thumbs up. "Hey! Did you wear that on purpose?" "Yes." "Wow! How'd YOU know about the Sacred Heart?" " It was on the radio Bob." I was instantly sorry I had worn the shirt.

The rest of the morning was not what I had hoped for. Nothing I did was the right thing. I felt myself growing more irritated at the drunks stealing the shampoo, and the tweaker girl who hovered near my station asking me every 3 minutes when I was going to get to her. Wulfie had plopped himself down next to and was obsessively combing his hair "Hey JB. If you become a nun, do you think Ed will become a Catholic butler?" his dandruff falling like snow on the table as he combed. Good Christ! I DO NOT LOVE THESE PEOPLE. I snapped and angrily yanked my hygiene list out of the hands of the woman who had picked it up to see where she was on the list. She started asking out loud to everyone to have someone with a "good attitude give her some damn body spray!!!".

It was a disaster. I felt like shit. I want to Mass and just sat there exhausted. I looked at the cross and felt nothing but anger. The prayers of the faithful guy spied my Jesus shirt after he had received the Eucharist and screamed " I love you!" pointing ... even that didn't cheer me up -- even though I always love it when he breaks the solemnity of Mass with some well-timed outburst.

I finally got home at seven made a bowl of popcorn, and kicked back ready to watch TV. I'd returned home after pulling off into a parking lot 15 minutes into my trip to Lincoln City. Called Ed, telling him I would join him in the morning -- staving off a potential tiff because I was so crabby. I hoped that I'd get up on the right side of bed in the morning. My mobile rang. As I have been taught to do by that group of fellow travelers I hang with now, I answered the phone -- It was Jett.

I met Jett six years ago, when she showed up on my doorstep for Bo's funeral -- 14 at the time, pudgy, frizzy hair, acne and braces. She was wearing a shirt with a photo of Bo transferred onto it. She handed me a drawing she'd done of him with a poem. Her mom seemed worried and helpless. I don't remember much of the encounter beyond thinking that it was odd that a strange girl Bo chatted with on the Internet had come all this way for his funeral -- and that her mom had brought her along.

My heart skipped a beat and then sank. She had found me. I knew she was traveling. Her Mom had called back in April telling me that Jett had disappeared. Was traveling with a boy. Thought she was headed up to PDX to see me. Would I please call her if I heard from her..... It pains me to tell you how I did not open my heart to this problem. All I could think was. "Damn it! Why now? Why me? Bo!! Damn you for bringing this to my doorstep. I don't need this shit. " I cannot tell you the terror nights I spent wondering where Bo was -- waiting for the next bad thing to happen -- and then, of course, it did. And I could not find any compassion for this mother. And now, Jett was sniffling on the other end of the phone. "JB...... I was wondering.... " Oh, God. Here it comes. "I'm in trouble and the people I've been camping with are fighting, and my sleeping bag is wet..........." And she is going to want to -- " Can I please come to your house and sleep in the garage?". Crap!

I said yes. And she asked for the bus route. And I heard myself saying, " I will come and get you. Where are you?". She told me. "Don't move" I will be there in 20 minutes.

As I was driving, I flipped on the radio, and it was set on the KBVM station. I heard a man announce the Efficacious Novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I listened to the prayer as I drove, taking deep breaths ... and rolling down all the windows to let in some air. As I was driving up 6th, I heard:

"O Sacred Heart of Jesus, for whom it is impossible not to have compassion on the afflicted, have pity on us miserable sinners and grant us the grace which we ask of you, through the Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, your tender Mother and ours." I flicked off the radio annoyed that I still didn't feel God.

She was standing alone on the sidewalk under the Rite Aid awning.

I pulled up to the curb and told her to jump in. I gasped at the acrid stench. I was glad that the windows were down. "Thank you JB...." I told her it was OK. She rolled up her window shivering. I breathed through my mouth and stole a sidelong look at her. She was filthy. Her eye was black. She had scratches all over her arms. Her face was dusky red, skin mottled with sores. I asked her if she was doing meth. She shook her head. "I am sober Jett. You can stay at the house tonight, but no drugs or alcohol." She nodded.

We got to the house; I ran upstairs and got her a bathrobe so she could take her clothes off in the mud room before coming in -- "drop your clothes straight into the washing machine." I handed her a stack of towels, pointed her to the shower and went off to find something that this girl who is half my size could wear. I found her some black leggings, a wife-beater and a sweater and set them on the sofa in my office. She finished her shower. After about 30 minutes she still hadn't come down. Nervous, I went upstairs. I found her sitting quietly looking at the pictures of Bo on the wall.

"I think I'm pregnant." "I want to stop drinking and using drugs." I didn't say anything. I sat and looked up at the shelf where Bo's ashes sit in an urn. My head hurt. I was her age when I was pregnant, not married, drinking and using. I started to sweat a little. I could feel my face flush and my heart start to beat faster. Flashes of memories started coming to the surface. I pushed them down and got up to look for some bedding.

" I want to go home but "I can't leave before my court date." Ah, yes. Of course. A court date”. What else but a felony heroin possession would be keeping a sick, junkie possibly pregnant former friend of Bo's from being back home with her Mother where she belongs -- instead of sitting in MY office at 10 pm on a Friday night?

I made her some tea and toast and gave her some herbs my doc gave me when I was de-toxing. She curled up on the sofa and asked for a book. I gave her one of Bo's C.S. Lewis paperbacks. I went to bed and slept fitfully. When I got up to pee a few hours later, I noticed the light was still on in my office.

In the morning I made coffee and put her clean sleeping bag in the dryer. When it was done, I went and woke her up so I could drive to the coast to be with Ed. I was quite literally giving her the bum's rush - "breakfast?" I chirped with a fake smile. She shyly asked for McDonald's so I drove through on our way to the bus station. We got out of the car so I could get her pack out of my trunk. I handed her a twenty. She hugged me. I stepped back and looked at her standing there. Shabby. Sick. Sad. I felt like I should say something. I sighed. " Your mom has been calling me worried about you." Her eyes filled with tears. I said to her: "For God's sake Jett. Don't end up like Bo." And I turned away. "Bye JB". she said Only then. ONLY THEN did my heart melt -- I remembered the last time Bo said goodbye to me. And I thought to myself “don’t turn out like me.”

In my meeting that night, the topic was service. When I got home, I read this from the Big Book:

"Your job now is to be at the place where you may be of maximum helpfulness to others, so never hesitate to go anywhere if you can be helpful. You should not hesitate to visit the most sordid spot on earth on such an errand. Keep on the firing line of life with these motives and God will keep you unharmed."