The woman on the curb talked to herself or someone, and I couldn’t help myself; I wanted to give her a cheeseburger and a chocolate chip cookie. And, of course, a scripture card. After a bit, I carried a lunch sack to her, and she called me by a name. Not my name. But a name just the same. I told her who I was, and she quickly agreed that she knew my face—and had given me an important-sounding name.

So for a few minutes, I became Octavia Elizabeth but quickly became myself again when I mingle...