I Might Need a Nap

We were late for church Sunday evening.

The family and I spend Sundays preparing the drinks for a family style picnic up in Macon.  I’ve shared the stories of some of our friends we’ve met there before on the blog.  There are so many great folks up there–they are a part of our family too.

So yesterday was no different.  Wash the coolers. Sanitize the coolers.  Make the coffee, boil the water for hot chocolate, and make the tea.  Sweet.  Of course.  I play a game with myself to see what is the absolute earliest I can get these things done.  We head out and get there before the late afternoon meal is served.  It always touches my heart at how willing our friends are to help us carry things in, get things set up.  They are the best.

During the meal, the littles are usually outside playing with their Daddy, while Aub is inside helping serve drinks.  Yesterday as we wrapped up, I found the littles playing with their Daddy and someone I’d never seen before.  He had a very long pole that was not unlike a fishing pole on steroids.  At the end he had clipped on a little stuffed frog.  My two littles were jumping and laughing, trying to catch the frog.  Their new friend was laughing and it seemed he was enjoying it as much as they were.

We got everything loaded in the car, and Pete was still talking to this fellow.  The littles were walking around his car which was loaded with scrap metal and other things he would recycle to help make a living.  After I introduced myself, he started sharing his story.  It was a captivating one.  He used to be fairly well off.  Then the divorce came.  Cue the depression.  He started smoking marijuana.  Finally someone introduced him to the “beauty and escape” of crack cocaine.  That was the end of the well off part of his life.  He went through everything he had, and then began stealing.  He’d take TVs right out of the back door of the local big chain store.  (Well, I wanted to ask about that, but my filter kicked in just in time. I mean, that must take some skill.  Not a skill I want to have, but still, can you imagine?)  He said that God showed him the error of his ways, then he paused.  “Well, God and the Bibb County Sheriff’s Department.”  He laughed, and it was delightful to hear.  Full of joy about where he is now.  Full of the irony of what it took to get him to where life is good.  Really good.  And it has nothing to do with the amount of money in his checking account.

He said when he got out of prison, he went to the day program for probationers.  My little guy asked him, ever fascinated with good guy/bad guy stories–aka STAR WARS fanatic–“Did you break out?”  “No,” was the reply.  “I did what I was supposed to do while I was in there, and I realized what I had been doing was very wrong.  I picked up a Bible, and I read it, and I learned how to behave and how to live.”  As a part of the day program, he earned honors and awards for his attitude and willingness to do what was required and then some.

Now he paints walls and buildings.  And does repairs.  And picks up scrap metal.  He even has this cool gadget he made to pick up metal with one side and to hook a can with another.  He also is an artist.  I don’t mean he just draws pictures.  He is AN ARTIST.   His work is breathtaking.  It tickled me that our eight year old looked at his work, and said knowingly in her most grownup voice, “Oh that’s very good.  You’re like our friend.  He can draw too.  He can draw barns.”

In his recycling searches, apparently he had come across this blowup boxing glove with “Clone Wars” stamped on the side.  As he was showing us his set up in his car, he saw it there and said, “You know, I’ve been looking for just the right guy to give this to.  And I think I’ve found him.”  Oh boy.  You’ve never seen such a smile.  And my little guy was really happy and smiling too.

Our new friend told us about the car.  It was given to him by a minister at his church.  It didn’t run, but they knew he was handy and said if he could fix it, he could have it.  That was two and a half years and a couple of minor repairs ago.  He could afford another car, but why?  “It runs. Why do I need to get another one?”  He lives in a little neighborhood where friends help each other.  That’s why he was so late getting to the picnic last night.  He’d been helping a neighbor.  He likes the work he does now.  He said one of the great things is that it allows him to volunteer as he wants to.  Apparently he’s been coming during the week to this day shelter and helping out when he has time.  He didn’t know we had the meal on Sunday nights until just a few days ago.  Someone told him we have a hard time filling the dishwashing “position” on Sundays, so he had come out to help.  He was sorry he’d gotten there too late.

Time passed quickly as our new friend shared his story on this gorgeous spring evening.  I had no idea how late it was until after we’d shaken his hands, told him thank you for the fun, the story, and the Clone Wars glove.  Church was a half hour away and it was going to start in ten minutes.  We made the decision to go anyway, and I lectured all about being quiet going inside when we got there.  (Cause you know, that’s on the checklist of Things Mamas Do.)

Tonight out of the blue the world’s biggest Star Wars fan (who has never seen a single movie–he’s six, okay?), said, “Okay, Mama, so does being rich mean you have lots of money?”

I thought about how to answer that, and as I put the leftovers from supper away, I said, “No baby, it doesn’t.  Being rich means you have lots of love.”

I know it’s a cliche’, but I really believe it’s true.  When I think about the story that was shared last night, I know which part of his life he would say is richer.  All that money in his old bank account could not begin to touch the joy I saw on his face radiating from his heart yesterday.  He is filled with love and God, giving thanks in everything, and boy is he ever rich!

On second thought, I don’t think we were late to church after all.