Monday, 24 August 2009

  • A Not So Typical Response to a Typical Homeless Man

    On a Sunday at church, a homeless and clearly drunk middle-aged man stopped by the church. He was there for hours. At one point, after the service had ended, he became belligerant. I suppose someone set him off. At that point a man in our church went out to talk with him. When I had left the church I saw what was happening and was deeply thankful for the man in my church, so I sent an email the next day. His words in his reply email are memorable. The way he truly cared for the homeless man is inspiring for me.

    My email:
    I know you didn't do it for recognition, but I truly want to say thank you for how you interacted with the gentleman at church today. You've said you are not always a patient person, but it seems God has given you more and more.

    His reply email:
    What the???
    I just got this note of yours.
    He was just lonely, that's all.  I can relate to that more and more.
    I also thought that if he couldn't get help and someone to talk with AT MY CHURCH, then where could he?
    He was drunk, very drunk.  At first, I was just trying to see what he was doing and trying to send him on his way. Imagine that, sending away a man in trouble?  What an ass I can be sometimes.
    People in his state can be very dangerous. I have seen them hurt and kill people, but I had him in the "what a waste of time" category right off the bat.
    After all the act of trying to freak me out (very hard to do.  Remember? I work with a fire house full of jack a****) the guy told me all he wanted was someone to listen and talk to.
    His name is -------- and he is from [a town nearby].  He is 48 years old.
    He was a seasonal firefighter in Idaho years ago. He fought the Yellowstone fire in 1988 which burned 1,000,000 acres. He was amazed that I remembered that.  He wasn't lying as his terminology was right on.
    He loves poetry and loves to read.  He has a daughter in [a neighboring city] who is seven and who is named Lily.
    He was flailing and swinging his arms around and broke that beautiful orange plant on the side of the church.
    He picked it up and said it had no scent.  I told him that the lilies were the best in the category of scent. That's when he teared up, as his daughter was named Lily.
    He plays guitar.  He had one, but was taken away by the Police Department because someone said he was using it as a weapon.
    He had a NKJ Bible with him.  It fell out with all his paperwork.
    He said that he was a "creepy, crawly, collection of collagenous junk."
    I told him I'd use that in a song and he laughed.
    He fell asleep in the stair well by he rose garden.
    I drove by at dusk to see if he might still be there, but he was gone.
    There was nothing anybody could do for him.  He was refusing help and was still so drunk, that he could barely communicate his own thoughts.
    Very typical of a alcoholic man living on the streets.
    When I was a bus rider, I used to run across many people like him.
    They all have a story and all know where they are at and did not want to be there.
    They just don't know how to get out.  They know what people say and think about them.
    They aren't stupid.  In fact, this guy was very smart.
    After I got home, I thought about how I am one serious mistake away from being in his shoes.
    Have you ever thought about that?  One physical or mental illness, or one bad choice and we are homeless.
    We teeter on the edge of failure every day.  Nothing is guaranteed.
    His was alcohol and his inability to handle life, now he wants the life he had again.
    The life he tried to escape from is now the life he wants once more.  Wow.
    At the mention of returning to family and friends he knows, he cussed just at the mention of them.
    Lots more than meets the eye.
    Anyways, there are too many like this guy.  Too many to fix, too many too help, too many for so few to do anything.
    Too bad he was drunk.  He was an interesting man with an interesting history.
    Don't thank me for talking to him.  Remember?  I talk to everyone...and too much most of the time.  I get that from my mom.  She was a talking fool.  She talked to everyone.

    Thoughts?

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