My Personal Good Samaritan

I'm freezing by the roadside in a blizzard.
Someone stops to help.
Does it matter who it is?

Who is today's Good Samaritan?
Someone of a different race,
or language, or religion?
Could it be the good tax auditor
or the good third-generation
welfare recipient?
The hooker with a heart of gold
or the kindly drug dealer?
The compassionate homosexual?
The socially responsible child molester
or wife beater out on parole?

Maybe it's someone
who has cheated or insulted me,
or, worse yet,
someone I have cheated or insulted.
After disliking that person,
looking down on that person,
gossiping about that person,
thinking of that person
as less lovable than myself,
I owe that person my life.

When it's time to say,
"Thank you for stopping,"
will the words stick in my throat?