PJ’s Page –
Since the middle of October my in-box, social media pages, television screen, and mailbox at home have been filled with holiday ads. They are created, ultimately, to entice me to spend more in order to “MAKE THIS CHRISTMAS THE BEST CHRISTMAS YET!” (latest ad from my Facebook feed.) And don’t get me wrong, I love to celebrate this feast of the Incarnation of Jesus –God with us—Emmanuel. I even love some of what the world has created to put around this holy time – trees and lights and stars and angels and music.
One of my favorite secular Christmas songs is “There’s No Place Like Home For the Holidays.” Very recently, that song took on new meaning thanks to your generosity as you support this pastor’s Helping Hands discretionary fund, which allows me to help people in your name and in the name of Christ.
And so, a story for this Advent/Christmas season….
They appeared overnight, as others have, seeking dry, safe shelter in the doorway of our fellowship hall. Surrounding their sleeping bags as they slept were items we might find on the bedside tables of our own sons: Gatorade, ear buds, and a paperback book, turned over, to save the page they would pick up with the next time.
At about mid morning every day, they would gather up their things, including a skateboard and a guitar, stop at our lunch window for a lunch, which was sometimes the only meal they had all day, and move on into the neighborhood for the day, until darkness brought them back to our doorway.
They were not always safe, even in our doorway. They’d been robbed twice: once in a shelter and once in our doorway, as they slept. It just went along with the territory, they said, but their eyes betrayed an uncertainty about when it might happen again.
They had been buddies in high school, back in Knoxville, Tennessee. Alex had come to Seattle in the early spring of this year and had found the occasional job in construction. Daniel hitchhiked out in the summer, but was never able to have as much luck as his friend in finding a job. Eventually an altercation with a would be thief resulted in Daniel having a detached retina. For awhile he wore an eye patch, but eventually he just pulled his hat down over his injured eye.
I heard most of their story on a rainy, cold day, when I invited Daniel to step inside the narthex and chat while he ate his sack lunch. By then Alex had a more steady construction job and hoped he would soon have enough money to buy a used car. If he had a car, it could serve as both transportation and shelter. Daniel was losing hope of finding a job, but was thankful that, at least overnight, he and Alex could keep one another safe.
I asked Daniel if he ever thought about going home. For some people, home is even less safe than the streets. We can never take anything for granted. But Daniel nodded his head vigorously in response to my question. “I really want to go home, but I can’t hitch hike back in winter; I’d freeze to death. And it’s not safe to go through California.”
It turned out that Daniel had a brother and a mother who were both willing to offer him shelter. His mother thought he could get a job at the Dollar Store that had just opened near her home.
I told Daniel that if he wanted to go home, our congregation would buy him a Greyhound bus ticket. He was flabbergasted, but seemed afraid that if he asked too many questions, I might change my mind. Once we had booked the ticket and he knew that in just a couple of days he would be heading home, he said: “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but why would you all do this for me?” I told him that we believed that Jesus would want us to care for one another in this way.
And then, this response: “But I’m a Baptist.”
Assured that even being a Baptist couldn’t separate him from the love of God in Christ, he then shared this: “I’ve been praying for some safe way to get home.”
I gave him my business card, pointed out my cell phone number, and told him that when the day arrived for him to go to the bus station, I would make sure he could get there. He would need to meet me at the church at 9:00 a.m.
When the day of his departure dawned, my phone rang at 8:00 a.m. “I’m here, at the Lutheran Church” he said. “Are you ready to go home?” I asked. “Yes ma’am” he responded, just like a southerner would. “I’ll be there soon” I promised.
We loaded up Daniel’s backpack with food from the sack lunch supplies. He also eagerly opened a juice box and some tuna; he hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. Katy joined me and we drove him to the bus station. I walked in with him, to make sure that everything was in order for his trip. As he checked his big backpack and sleeping bag, the Greyhound clerk caught my eye and took note of my clerical collar. Looking gently at Daniel, he stamped his boarding pass and said “You have priority boarding. You can go to the front of the line when we board.”
Daniel’s face filled with emotion and amazement. “I’ve never been invited to the front of the line for anything before” he said. With a hug and about fifty thank-you’s he moved into the bus terminal and I went out to my car, certain that I was standing on holy ground.
Later that day I had lunch with my college student daughter. It can be tough to be a PK, especially in these days. The Church demands much in the way of time and energy and attention from your clergy parent and resentment of God and God’s church is not an uncommon response. But when I shared the story of Daniel with Taylor, she said “Mom, that’s what Jesus meant when he said the last would be first.” Yes, indeed, it is.
I hold Daniel and his family in my prayers. I hope that his trip on a dry, warm, bus was safe and uneventful. I hope that his mother and brother greeted him with joy and thanksgiving. And I am reminded of another story of another brother who wandered away and was greeted with joy at his homecoming. And of another mother and brother who worried over a son. And of a family searching out shelter night after night only to be told there was not room for them.
May you and those you love be filled with the love of Christ in this and all seasons. And Daniel, may your brother and your mother and you feel the love from this congregation, that gave just a little bit of itself so that you could be together. There truly is no place like home for the holidays.
Deep peace to you,
PJ+
Update: Daniel left a voicemail at the church. He arrived safely home! He said Thank You several more times and noted that our congregation was an answer to his prayer. Thanks be to God.