Coming back from the Adult Rehabilitation Center Chapel last Wednesday our group ran into Anna. She was trudging through the sidewalk with a determined expression. One arm was swinging while the other carefully cradled something in a black plastic sack. It was obvious that her precious cargo was alcohol… nothing new for her. With her head down, she didn’t see us at first, but when she finally looked up her face brightened and glowed with anticipation to speak. We greeted her with the usual smiles and hugs and asked why she looked so determined. I jokingly said that she seemed as though she was on a mission. She replied with enthusiasm, “I am on a mission!” She shouted at us to walk with her and so we pressed back down the way we had just come.
Anna ranted about what was new in her life since we saw her last, and shouted a few “hellos” to others on the street. We walked fast around the corner of the Institute for Human Services (Men’s shelter) and down back to the front of the ARC, where she waved to a man I’ve never seen before. As we approached he grew a smile while Anna explained our presence. She confessed to him that she “got sidetracked” and gave him his “change”. She plopped on the card board that he was sitting on and introduced him to us as John.
As time passed we talked about this, that, and other things. However, with Anna the conversation always ends in the same place. She told us how much that she loved our visits and the talks we had. It brightened her day.
By this time Anna was pretty drunk and was very all over the place. With a beer in her hand she explained to us that she was “okay” and “doing fine” which was completely different from the last time we talked to her. Even though I’ve only know Anna a short time I can tell you the truth, that Anna is not fine. I can also tell you that Anna is better than this.
For the first time I felt angry with Anna. I wanted to take the beer she had set at her side and throw it down the street. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, tell her that she is better than this and that God has wonderful plans for her. That he loves her and it breaks his heart to see her like this. I wanted to tell her that she needs help – now.
What makes me even angrier is that I didn’t say anything. I nodded my head and smiled at the jokes she was telling. I think I was scared more than anything. I didn’t know what would happen to the relationship that had grown. I wasn’t sure how Anna would react to my screaming at her. But it just upset me to see her waste away like that.
The night ended with Anna falling into a drunken sleep and us walking away with heavy hearts.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Prayer
Prayer has never been one of my strengths. This is especially true in groups where I have to pray aloud. I get nervous and I start to focus less on God and more on what I need to say. It’s a work in progress for sure.
A few days ago I had to walk over to "The Salvation Army Adult Rehabilitation Center" to volunteer. I don’t normally work over there but "The River of Life Mission" where I serve lunch was closed so I figured I would go and see what I could do at the ARC. As I walked down the side of A’ala Park I recognized a couple of guys lying on the ground next to the bridge, so I stopped to say "Hi". They looked tired and very upset. Ted was one of them; his hair tussled from the backpack he had used as a pillow, his shirt dirty from weeks of not washing it. He was always interesting to talk to because he always had something to say. This time it was the elections. The man he now had to call president was not who he had voted for. So he was talking his usual smack about Washington D.C. I tried to encourage him by giving my opinion and that seemed to calm him down a bit but did not stop his rambling on about the subject.
As we chit chatted a man that I had seen before but never really “met” came and sat by Ted. With a smile he reached his hand out and told me his name was Harold, and I introduced myself as well. He was about as tall as me and always had his shirt lifted half way up. He had really short hair and a wiry beard and mustache which was brown, just like his hair. His face was round and tan from the sun, and his smile was infectious. I asked how he had been and he asked if I would talk with him as he scooted down the rock wall, away from Ted and the others.
As his smile faded, he told me about his “baby”. He loved her a lot and he just knew that she liked him better than her mother. She was just two years old now and he wasn’t allowed to see her. By this time his eyes were swollen with tears and he admitted to me that he was a drunk, a man in desperate need of one thing – alcohol. That was why he couldn’t see his daughter. He wanted to stop drinking, but he just couldn’t. He sat trying to rub the tears from his eyes, and I had nothing to say. I agreed with him that addiction is hard to overcome. Looking back I know I should have told him that God is the only way he can truly strip away the chains of addiction. I could have said so much to this man, but I didn’t. The only words that ran through my head were, “Can I pray for you?” Every bone in my body shook and trembled at the thought, but my heart was strong and ached in pain for this man, Harold. So I spoke aloud those words I was thinking. He agreed and we joined hands. He held my hand so tight all I could do was clench his tightly back, and we called on the name of the Lord together.
When we finished praying I looked up into Harold’s infectious smile and smiled back, thankful that God gives courage to the timid and comfort to the hurting.
A few days ago I had to walk over to "The Salvation Army Adult Rehabilitation Center" to volunteer. I don’t normally work over there but "The River of Life Mission" where I serve lunch was closed so I figured I would go and see what I could do at the ARC. As I walked down the side of A’ala Park I recognized a couple of guys lying on the ground next to the bridge, so I stopped to say "Hi". They looked tired and very upset. Ted was one of them; his hair tussled from the backpack he had used as a pillow, his shirt dirty from weeks of not washing it. He was always interesting to talk to because he always had something to say. This time it was the elections. The man he now had to call president was not who he had voted for. So he was talking his usual smack about Washington D.C. I tried to encourage him by giving my opinion and that seemed to calm him down a bit but did not stop his rambling on about the subject.
As we chit chatted a man that I had seen before but never really “met” came and sat by Ted. With a smile he reached his hand out and told me his name was Harold, and I introduced myself as well. He was about as tall as me and always had his shirt lifted half way up. He had really short hair and a wiry beard and mustache which was brown, just like his hair. His face was round and tan from the sun, and his smile was infectious. I asked how he had been and he asked if I would talk with him as he scooted down the rock wall, away from Ted and the others.
As his smile faded, he told me about his “baby”. He loved her a lot and he just knew that she liked him better than her mother. She was just two years old now and he wasn’t allowed to see her. By this time his eyes were swollen with tears and he admitted to me that he was a drunk, a man in desperate need of one thing – alcohol. That was why he couldn’t see his daughter. He wanted to stop drinking, but he just couldn’t. He sat trying to rub the tears from his eyes, and I had nothing to say. I agreed with him that addiction is hard to overcome. Looking back I know I should have told him that God is the only way he can truly strip away the chains of addiction. I could have said so much to this man, but I didn’t. The only words that ran through my head were, “Can I pray for you?” Every bone in my body shook and trembled at the thought, but my heart was strong and ached in pain for this man, Harold. So I spoke aloud those words I was thinking. He agreed and we joined hands. He held my hand so tight all I could do was clench his tightly back, and we called on the name of the Lord together.
When we finished praying I looked up into Harold’s infectious smile and smiled back, thankful that God gives courage to the timid and comfort to the hurting.
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