Monday night is my absolute favorite night right now. I admit that it mostly has to do with the TV lineup, starting with a two-hour Bachelorette followed by Extreme Makeover Weight Loss Edition. (I can most certainly be called a reality show addict.) However, I am also highly motivated on Mondays, and I usually spend the workday getting my project priorities set for the week and checking off as many items on my ‘to do’ list as possible before the end of the day. (Monday is usually not a very social day for me at work.) Finally, I come home on most Monday evenings to a refrigerator full of healthy dinner possibilities, thanks to a Sunday afternoon trip to the grocery. So, on my drive home, while basking in the high of an efficient, accomplished workday, I map out the proposed evening timeline: dinner prep, wardrobe change (into pajama pants), alternative entertainment setup for children (with dinner service) and transition into TV- vegetating state. Last night, however, my drive home was interrupted by an image of a truer reality - one that took over my conscious and my schedule; and made me completely forget it was Monday night.
On the way home from work, as I was nearing the end of my exit off of I-55, I saw the blue lights of a cop car pulled to the side of the stop light. When I came to a stop (smack-dab next to the situation), I saw that the subject under obvious question by the officer was a homeless man with his cardboard sign folded slightly under his dirty arm, revealing just a few words from what looked to be a slightly longer-than-usual message for a “will work for food” poster. In a quick glance, my eye caught the word “ANY” in capital letters and underlined for emphasis at the end of a broken sentence, as well as the customary statement “God Bless You” written on the side of the poster. The cop was talking into the walkie talkie attached to his shoulder, pushing the button with one hand while reviewing a slip of paper the homeless man had given him in his other hand. The homeless man held onto an open Ziploc bag which obviously housed the important paper for safekeeping. I could see the homeless man’s mouth moving – stating his case I’m sure, telling his story. I had that split-second vision of me getting out of the car and saying “He’s with me, officer” as I loaded up his stuff and pushed him into my car. My eyes scanned his belongings – a rolled-up, stained sleeping bag and an old backpack. I immediately wanted to offer to bring his sleeping bag home to wash it and deliver it back to him with a fresh smell to comfort him later that night. Of course, the traffic light turned green before I could consider following through with any of my proposed actions, and I was headed on to pick up the kids from daycare and go home – with the heaviest burden my heart has had in a long time.
When I finally made it home, I immediately started dinner – throwing some ground beef in the skillet to brown and starting the pasta water boiling – arguing with myself the whole time over the could-haves and should-haves. I barely paid attention to the routine execution of the spaghetti dinner, as I finally came to the conclusion that I would share part of our family meal with this stranger on the side of the road. I was suddenly nervous and excited, like a timer was ticking down the minutes I had before he had walked too far from the spot that I’m sure the office shooed him away from. The kids were whining about being hungry and when was dinner going to be ready. (They would probably be disappointed when they found out they would have to wait even longer.)
As soon as everything was ready, I packed up a recycled margarine container (the ‘big tub’ one) with spaghetti noodles, drowned it in meat sauce and stuck in a aluminum foil-wrapped roll. I grabbed a to-go utensils packet and a diet coke from the refrigerator and put everything in a Walmart bag. I called the kids to go get in the car because we had an errand to run. When they asked me what we were doing, I just said, “I’m not sure, but I think God wants me to do something.”
My kids are used to me doing seemingly strange things like asking them out-of-the-blue if I could say a prayer out loud, or randomly breaking out into a Bible story or spiritual lesson; but I’m not sure they quite knew what to expect from my answer this time. And, they just sat there quietly as I murmured “it will just be a minute; it’s just around the corner – at least I hope it is” while driving to the spot where I last saw him. When we got there, he was gone, of course, and my heart sank a little. I kept driving, however, and I started to explain what I had seen, how I wanted to do something for the man, but how I may have missed my chance.
“Well, can’t we keep looking?” said Hannah, my 7-year-old, who was experiencing the strongest ‘hunger pains’ of the three children just 15 minutes earlier. Of course we could, and we did. We drove at least 10 miles in every possible direction he could have gone, scanning every parking lot and wooded area. While I was chattering away my nervous energy with all the possibilities that could have happened to him – “maybe the policeman took him to the station; maybe the officer sent him off to a shelter; maybe someone else actually took the action I only imagined” - I realized that Parks, my too-cool-for-school 10-year-old, was sniffling in the backseat and trying not to cry. When I asked him what was wrong, he couldn’t answer and barely whispered “I feel bad for him,” as a few tears escaped from his nearly pre-teen eyes and dripped down his cheeks faster than he could swipe them away with his hand.
I instantly felt bad for failing to help the homeless man right in front of my children, and I began trying to make us all feel better about it with truths I knew deep in my heart. I told the kids that what we could do was pray for him. God knew where he was, and he knew how much we wanted to help him but couldn’t. I also explained that God loved the man, just as much as he loves us, whether the man knew it or not; and He would make sure that the man was taken care of tonight. It seemed to ease the sadness in the car, and we drove home in silence to eat the dinner we left out on the stove.
I was in the middle of preparing plates when I got a text from my mom, commenting on something that had obviously happened on The Bachelorette – a routine we have established as mutual lovers of reality TV – and I was swept back into my standard Monday night habit. However, the wheels have been set in motion, and I vow to jump into action sooner in my next opportune real-life ‘reality’ moment.
I just truly hope the kids are with me when the next opportunity arises.
Isaiah 40:31 “Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
