S O U T H E R N
A U T H O R
"A Play for Power"
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A Child shall lead us
Earlier today, we were slurping our Cheerios, sipping our favorite morning brew and perusing the newspaper while we waited for a contractor to come and install a new hardwood floor in our kitchen.
My wife had neatly divided the paper into my stack and her stack. I had the front page, the Business Section and Sports; she had the Metro and the Living Guide section. Five pounds of unclaimed Christmas advertising was spread across the entire table. In the Business Section, a tiny article practically hidden amongst all the other bad economic news said that those that normally extend a generous hand to those in need at Christmas; this year, weren't. As a result, nearly every charity and food bank on the planet was coming up short. Not only that, but partially because of rising unemployment, the homeless shelters were filled to overflowing with those that have already slipped over the edge,
It started me to thinking about the trillion dollar bailout for Wall Street, the banks - and now the auto industry - versus the fundamental needs of Main Street. I commented to my wife, "Isn't it sad that while we, like so many others, bemoan the fact that at least a third our retirement nest egg has evaporated into thin air, some folks are going to bed hungry? Isn't it sad that this lousy economy is killing the Christmas spirit - even among those that by comparison still have so much?
I recalled a human interest story from a few years back called "The Man under the Bridge." It told of how an eleven-year-old girl and her single mom changed a homeless man's life.
Seems the kid saw the man under the bridge almost every day on her way to an after-school program. He'd be sitting on a milk crate, reading a day old newspaper someone has tossed away or sleeping. She said she could never see his face and that only added to the mystery. Thus intrigued, when asked to pick a topic for a social studies project at school, the sixth grader chose "homelessness." As part of the project, she told her mother that she wanted to volunteer at a soup kitchen. Her mom liked the idea and went online to find a suitable organization. Together, they collected food and clothing from their neighbors and donated it to the cause.
Through their newfound passion, the young lady and her mom met a man who worked with the homeless, trying to get them off the street. The young lady told the man about the man under the bridge and said she wanted to help. That night, the social worker went to the bridge and found the man.
His name was Billy - he was 38-years old. He was a carpenter, a plumber and an alcoholic. His sordid past included jail time for shoplifting and other thefts. The social worker said that Billy seemed genuinely touched that he had a friend in the neighborhood that was concerned for him. Up until then, his only friend had been a fat rat named Willard with whom he shared his food.
A few days later, the young lady and her mom presented the social worker with jeans, a pair of boots and a warm blanket to take to the man called Billy who lived under the bridge. The youngster also included a letter she had written:
"... I saw you sleeping under the bridge. I think about you often and wonder if you are okay...
"I hear that you aren't doing so well and that you are kind of sick. I see you and wonder if you are going to be okay. I pray for you at night and just want you to know that there are many people in this world that you matter to, you matter to me! ...
"Please take care of yourself and be safe. I will pray every night that God will watch over you and that something will happen good for you. YOU DO DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN FOR YOU! Please don't ever give up!"
According to the social worker, as Billy sat on his milk crate reading the letter from the child, he began to cry. On the reverse side of her letter, he wrote a note of thanks back to her. At the end, he said, "... keep being the good person you are throughout life." Soon afterwards, Billy checked himself in to a hospital to withdraw from alcohol. But like so many times before, he bailed-out after only three days.
The eleven year old and her Mom were on their way home when they spotted Billy back under the bridge. The young lady begged her mom to stop and let her meet Billy face-to-face. At first, her mom said, "No," but then she unexpectedly did a U-turn. She told her daughter, "I can't promise we're going to stop," but seeing that Billy was talking with the social worker and no longer alone, stop she did.
The little kid hugged Billy even though he reeked of alcohol. She told him she had faith in him. Billy was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe that this pretty little girl was the one who had started a program to help him. The next day, he went back to the hospital where the little girl would sit beside his hospital bed and hold his hand for hours while he trembled and sweated.
After a couple more false starts, Billy finally got the help he needed and moved from under the bridge to a residential recovery program. He now relishes the cleanliness of the apartment, hot showers, regular meals and the company of others striving to cleanup their lives. Thanks to a little kid with a heart for giving and not much else, Billy pulled his life back together. He soon had a job and now works fulltime. Billy and his new friend still talk every day on the phone. He has a standing invitation to dinner at her home on Christmas Eve, as long as he's sober.
The sixth grader's school project on homelessness took first place in the county social studies fair. It was also a contender in regional competition. But this young lady says that the most important prize was this: She reached out to a man she noticed from a bus and that man doesn't live under a bridge anymore.
I ask you, when does it happen? When do we lose the ability to see and to trust? To see someone as they are inside and not what they look like on the outside? When does the desire to give stop and cynicism and bitterness take over our lives?
For most of us, if we passed under that bridge today and saw Billy sitting on his milk crate, we'd make sure the car doors were locked and quickly look away. Worse still, if a kid in the backseat asked about the man under the bridge, many of us would dismiss him as a lazy drunk ... one of the pieces to life's little puzzle that doesn't fit anywhere.
One of the things that sticks out in my mind to this day from dozens of "get saved or go to Hell" Baptist sermons I heard as a kid, was one called "The Unforgivable Sin." The sermon explained that because of His abounding grace, the only unforgivable sin was the hardening of one's heart and no longer responding to the calls of God.
It seems to me that left unchecked, the hardening of the heart and hardening of arteries both come with age. Hardening ones heart toward the needs of "the least of these" may not be the unforgivable sin, but it is wrong.
While our government has perpetrated many a wrong in an attempt to help those they deem deserving, as decent, caring, God-fearing human beings we are called to share our bounty with the least of those among us. Perhaps like that first Christmas two thousand years ago, it takes a child to show us the way.
The Prophet Isaiah states: "The wolf will dwell with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the young goat ... and a child will lead them." I pray that this Christmas season, the simple faith and incessant creativity of this child - her unwillingness to accept complacency - will make her story a driving force toward change in your life. I pray that like this young lady, this Christmas Season - despite the bad economy - you will open your heart and your purse and experience the real meaning of Christmas.