Another chance. . .

Occasionally, the corner offers up more than I can handle emotionally.

That was the case last Thursday as I talked to people in the cold.  We huddled up for conversation in the cold wind, drinking coffee to cut the chill as much as possible.

My friend "Blue" came by.

Blue is a chronic inebriate.

Strangely though, he seems to handle his life fairly reasonably and with good affect.

Thursday he seemed somehow different.

He never asks me for anything.  Usually he will accept a bottle of water, which he did on this day.

Out of character, he said to me, "Will you help me?"

Surprised, I answered, "How can I help you?  What do you need, Blue?"

He smiled at me and then grew sober, as if he were embarrassed by his request.

"You don't have to help me," he informed me.

"If I give you money, if I help you, tomorrow you won't be any better, will you?" I asked.

"I'll be the same Blue," he answered honestly.

Our conversation shifted to a longer term view of life and options.  I reminded him of previous conversations about a job in the new Opportunity Center, possibly in the new kitchen.

"But, I've got to have you sober, Blue.  If you want a job, I'll be depending on you to be sober and able to stay on the job," I reminded him.

I told him that I believed that he didn't need anyone to "give" him anything but a shot, an opportunity, a second chance.

As I spoke those words, he broke down.

"Do you know that I am in love with a dead woman?" he asked with tears in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"My lady died.  I still love her," he explained.  He told me her name, but not much else about her death.

Still, I began to understand a bit more about my friend, about how he got our here and about his problem with alcohol.

I expressed my sympathy to him.

With tears streaming down his face, he begged me, "Give me a job, please, give me a job!  What I need is a second chance."

Who doesn't?

We continued talking about the options that were ahead, including possible housing in our Cottages development just down the street, a vast improvement on the driveway in front of the Merindeno's filling station next door where he beds down each night.

He lingered longer than normal.

As I was picking up my stuff to leave, he helped me load up.

As I prepared to leave, he wrapped me in a bear hug and said, "I love you, Mr. Craig James [oh, yeah, I forgot to mention he calls me Mr.Craig James!], I love you man!" 

"I love you, too, Blue!  I love you too," I told him.

I drove away, emotionally spent and thinking about a job and a house for my friend who deserves a "second chance" every bit as much as I do.

Trouble is, if he's anything like me, just one more chance won't be enough.

Marcus Borg on the Prodigal--Sunday Meditation

There's a Wideness in God's Mercy

We sang this hymn during the memorial service for my good friend Bob Glaze back on February 6. I saved the service bulletin and have thought of these lyrics often since then. Certainly, Bob lived these sentiments.

There's a Wideness in God's Mercy

There's a wideness in God's mercy,
Like the wideness of the sea;
There's a kindness in His justice,
Which is more than liberty.

There is welcome for the sinner,
And more graces for the good;
There is mercy with the Savior;
There is healing in His blood.

But we make His love too narrow
By false limits of our own;
And we magnify His strictness
With a zeal He will not own.

For the love of God is broader
Than the measure of our mind;
And the heart of the Eternal
Is most wonderfully kind.

If our love were but more simple,
We should take Him at His word;
And our lives would be more loving
In the likeness of our Lord.

[Lyrics: Frederick William Faber]

Everywhere

It always happens. No matter where I am, it happens. It has been happening for as long as I can remember. For years and years now.

I've noticed that it often happens when things are complicated or when I have been distracted by something selfish or when I am supposed to be "away" from things.

My family has grown so accustomed to it that it has become a family joke of sorts--not exactly the right language, but I struggle to describe it. My daughters grew up watching it. My wife has seen it everywhere we go.

Whatever.

It happens to me again and again.

And, it happened again last Friday night when I stopped to get gas just across the street from the hospital where my dad is recuperating from surgery.

Now get the picture. This gas station is located in an extremely affluent part of our region.

For some reason the credit card reader on the gas pump wasn't working. So, I had to go inside to pay in advance. I first noticed the gentleman as I walked inside. He saw me and I realized that he saw me.

But, I thought, "Here I am in northwest Plano. This is one of the wealthiest parts of the Metroplex. . .surely there aren't panhandlers up here!"

I knew I was wrong, as I rehearsed my foolish logic with the little person living inside my head. Do you have one of those annoying little creatures in your life/head?

When I returned to my car to complete the fueling process, he approached me.

"Sir, good evening," he began. "I was telling that other gentleman that I'm trying to get enough money to get home to Greenville, Texas. I was wondering. . . ."

I cut him off.

"Don't go there, friend," I told him. "I am going to help you out, but don't give me any 'baloney' (not exactly what I said) because I know game and I'm not needing any game tonight!"

"Where you from, man?" he asked me with a smile breaking across his face.

"I live in Downtown Dallas in the 'hood," I replied. "I know game. But, tonight I'm not playing. So, why don't we start again and you just tell me what's going on and what you are trying to do tonight."

"I just got out of prison," he told me, as he pulled out his Texas Department of Corrections identification card. "I'm trying to get a bus pass, something to eat, and a job."

At this point I was encouraged by his complete candor. Refreshing for us both, it seemed.

"I run an inner city ministry Downtown," I told him. "You need to come see us because we have lots of possibilities for you."

I explained all of the options we could make available to him, if he chose to take advantage of them.

"When you say housing, you aren't talking about the shelter are you?" he asked with a frown of concern.

"No, no," I assured him. "I'm talking about an apartment of your own--permanent supportive housing."

"That's what I need. . . and a job, but when you get out and tell people what I've told you, man, people just turn away and won't give you the time of day."

I didn't have a business card. Drat! So, I wrote down contact information and handed it back to him, explaining that I was only out in Plano because of my dad's hospitalization across the street.

"You don't want to go back to prison," I told him. "You and I know one slip up and you are going back. Black folks end up inside a lot more often than people like me!"

He laughed a long laugh.

"I haven't met a white man who talks like you," he said.

"Thanks to friends like you, it has developed over the years, believe me. What were you in for?" I asked.

"Robbery," he confessed. "It's hard without a job. You can make so much more doing bad. I don't want to go back, man."

We talked about racism, faith, Jena, Louisiana; prison, friendship and finding a new chance.

I handed him a twenty and he shook my hand and smiled a huge smile.

"I ain't going back," he declared.

I watched him walk away. He retrieved his backpack from the side of the station. He walked away into the night with what appeared to be a confident stride.

It always happens to me.

I wish it didn't.

I wish people weren't facing what that gentleman faces. I hope he will come by and hook up with us. It is good to imagine what we could discover together. I hope he believed me.

I wonder if he has any real reason to take me at my word.

We'll see.



.

Forgiveness

Community depends on our ability to forgive one another from the heart.

Practising the fine art of forgiveness is especially important as we work for justice, fairness and reform in our society. The fact is we will find many opportunities for extending mercy and forgiveness as we progress.

The capacity to extend forgiveness to others, to "give them a break," links us with a larger reality at work in the universe. I believe the essential openness to others that provides for forgiveness and multiple "second chances" is a characteristic that links us to our Creator and to the giant picture of eternity.

When it comes to forgiveness, often my problem relates to my inability to step back and take a longer view of my life and my relationships. People who have the gift of "long-sightedness" provide direction and leadership for healthy communities.

Productive, dynamic human relationships are rooted in a deeper, extended spiritual view of reality.

Beyond this, and much closer to home, the ability to forgive in a community begins with a willingness to forgive ourselves for our own failures and selfish mistakes.

I like how Dean Koontz puts it in Brother Odd:

"When you laugh at yourself, you gain perspective. Then you realize that the mistakes you made, as long as they didn't hurt anyone but yourself--well you can forgive yourself for those."

After thinking about that for a moment, he gave me one thumb up as a sign of agreement.

"You know what? Everyone who crosses over to the Other Side, if he didn't know it before he went, suddenly understands the thousand ways he was a fool in this world. So everyone over there understands everyone over here better than we understand ourselves--and forgives our foolishness" (page 239).

So, for the sake of the community of which you are a part, practice forgiveness today.

Start by forgiving yourself. Then, look to your neighbors.