07/08/2026
Meet my new friend, Anya, from Bulgaria.
I went for a lunchtime walk in downtown Portland today and met Anya.
“God has allowed me to be homeless for 57 days,” she said in a heavy Eastern European accent. I couldn’t tell if she was blaming God for her condition, or if she had faith that there was a divine reason for her homelessness.
“Tell me your story.” I said.
“I was a young girl of about 17 in Bulgaria right after the fall of the Soviet Union when I read “An American Tragedy” by Theordore Dreiser and I swore that I would never visit America. But I later married my husband, and he had the opportunity to work in America with a green card. He got on his knees and begged me to come with him. So, I said OK, and we came to America.”
“You remind me of my husband with your glasses, kind face, and hair.” She said, “Except he was skinny.” (Oooofff)
“My husband died about a year and a half ago, and things haven’t been good since. But I do dream about him quite often.”
“He came to me in a dream a couple of weeks ago. I asked him how he was doing and what he was doing to keep busy in Heaven.”
He said, “Well, I am pretty good friends with God. In fact, we play a game of chess every day. He usually wins, but I have beaten God twice.”
She then reached into a suitcase, pulled out a packet. "Would you like some applesauce?" she asked.
One of the things I love about Portland is that there are amazing people with amazing stories everywhere.