There I was, minding my own business. I was alone in New York City subway car--the F-train, to be specific--reading St. Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle, a great read for those interminably long commutes into the city. I was on the cusp of true spiritual enlightenment when four of the biggest, baddest and most boisterous kids I ever came across entered my car and lumbered toward me.

They were everyone's worst nightmare of what young punks could look like. They were replete with do-rags on their heads, gaudy jewelry, their unspeakably dirty jeans pulled halfway down their rear ends exposing to all the world their taste in underwear brands. Their shoelaces were untied and dragging behind them and they spoke much too loudly for the confines of the subway car.

It's amazing to think how old I had become just in the course of that particular subway ride. I was seconds away from shaking my walker at them and telling them to stay off my lawn.

The greater part of their attention was directed to the subway map on the wall above and behind me. "OK!" one of them said. "We got to get to the corner of Seventh Avenue and Second Avenue."

Now, Seventh Avenue and Second Avenue do not intersect. In Manhattan, they are, in fact, on opposite sides of the island. Should the boys go to one coordinate, they would completely miss the other by approximately two miles. I felt compelled to explain this to them.

I was immediately greeted with smiles and thankfulness and more questions. I was suddenly very popular in that subway car.

These "punks" were just boys, lost in the city. They had no intention of causing harm or disruption. They were out only to see the sights. As they spoke, I noticed that they all had unmistakable Texan twangs.

Just when I thought that I had learned the lesson that God had prepared for me that day about not judging a book by its cover, I was once again surprised at what my Creator had in mind.

I noticed that the boy seated next to me couldn't pull his attention away from the cover of the book in my hand.

"What's the book?" he managed to ask. I showed it to him and explained to him who St. Teresa was and how much respect I have for this particular title.

He was impressed and appeared thoughtful. "I'll have to pick up the book. I'm Catholic also." I didn't expect that.

"We're all Catholic," he explained. "In fact, we re a Catholic apologist rap group.

An even bigger surprise.