“Quite an office, Roger,” I said to my friend.

“It is nicer than the one room shop where I started.”

“I’m happy for you,” I replied. “This is a great view.”

“It is,” said Roger.

“Looks like you expand the view whenever you need to, Roger,” I said, pointing to a high powered telescope sitting in the corner of the glass exterior walls.

Roger laughed, “Hey, some things need enhancing. Look here.” He pointed to the outline of Stone Mountain far off in the distance. He turned the telescope toward the mountain, looked through the eyepiece, he made some adjustments, and then he offered me a look.

I took a long gaze through the lens. Roger tapped my shoulder and then turned the scope toward a lake in a park. I looked again and marveled at the detail of geese on the water.

“I don’t know if I’d ever get any work done in this office,” I said. A movement on the street below caught my attention. It was the swagger of the man’s walk that seemed familiar. I couldn’t place it. “Roger, see the fellow in the brown coat down there?”

Roger looked, “The one waiting for the light to turn?”

“Can you focus on him?”

Roger swung the scope and peered through the lens. “Needs a shave. Take a look.”

I looked into the eyepiece.. The man standing on the corner was Dwight. When I’d last seen him, at least eighteen months ago, Dwight was insisting he was cleaned up and was doing better. But I’d heard those words many times before.

“Well, I’ll be darn,” I mumbled.

“Who is it?” asked Roger.

I  told Roger the story of Dwight who, with his girlfriend, had slept on the children’s playground behind the church for several years. He’d been a homeless alcoholic who hung out in the park across from my church.

“Dwight was homeless and always in a battle with the bottle,” I explained. “But he was ingenious.” I told Roger a story of the time there was a big festival at the park. Dwight had stood at the entrance to the church parking lot. He directed people to turn in to park. Most would ask him how much it cost. Dwight would tell them: “This is the church. We don’t charge. But, if you’d like to make a contribution it would be appreciated.”

“How much did he get?” asked Roger.

“I don’t know, but it seemed to be enough to keep him supplied with Wild Turkey for a few weeks.”

I continued looking. Dwight was starting across the street now. The swagger was still in his step; the close-cropped beard was still on his face. But the pants were pressed; the t-shirt had been traded for a dress shirt; he wore loafers; and the blazer fit handsomely. Dwight greeted a lady crossing the street opposite his direction. There was a smile on his face. The parson smiled himself as he watched Dwight walking away, his back to the scope, arms swinging in exaggerated fashion. Dwight turned and proceeded into an office building.

The last time I’d seen him came to mind. “I promise you pastor, I know you heard me say it before, but this time I mean it. I’m clean; I’m sober; and I’m going to stay that way and finally make something of myself.”

Dwight gone, I turned to Roger. “The view from here is much better than you ever imagined.”