I lost it last night.
Walter comes to my door so often. In my inner city neighborhood it is not uncommon at all. People show up asking for help.
Walter is a regular.
And, he has received a "hand up" on more than one occasion, and not just from me.
Two weeks ago we found a way to get him and his wife into one of our apartments. He was thrilled and relieved. Life on the streets of East Dallas can be really tough.
Walter is a recovering addict. His wife's struggle has been much worse.
He showed up at my door last night at about 9 p.m. with some story about needing cash to buy ant killer.
I gotta hand it to him, that is a new one!
I lost it!
Forgive me, Lord.
I dressed him down. Read him the riot act.
"You're pushin' me, man!" I told him.
"You're really pushin' me," I repeated.
He backed way off.
"Your assignment is to work, pay your rent on April 1 and not come to my house at 9 p.m. with some crazy story about ant killer!" I almost shouted this time.
It is this way here.
All is not sweetness and light.
We aren't all kindness and affection.
Love is brutal at times. I am learning this.
Plus, we are very, very human!
But, Walter is too precious to be let off the hook. He must step up.
Poverty does things to people--stresses them, strings them out, makes them lie and fantasize.
Poverty is brutal.
Pray for me.
Pray for Walter.
I have hope for him.
When we call for public policy justice again and again, please know and understand that we are also insisting, as best we can, on accountability among the poor as well.