Tonight as many in our area were anxiously awaiting news reports concerning possible violence at a presidential candidate's rally, one family mourned, for the second time, the loss of their father. They had already lost him once to choices he made that brought about the circumstances in which I would meet him.
The complexities of homelessness can not be explained in one simple blog. Nor do I profess to be an authority in the matter. What I do know is that Mr B had a name; he wasn't just some nameless, faceless drunk that roamed about the streets of Conroe. He had a story, if you only sat down to listen. He had a family. He always had a cane. And a lot of the time he had a bottle in the other hand.
Unfortunately for most, the bottle was all that they ever saw. They just couldn't look past it. Perhaps more unfortunate for others that could see past the bottle, they saw a project that needed to be fixed. It's true that Mr B often needed shoes or a pair of pants that would fit his gauntly shaped body. He needed a shower and soap, although not so much with the shampoo. He needed to eat more and drink less. But what Mr B needed most of all was to know that he was loved unconditionally.
I could honestly sit for hours & just listen to the stories from his life. Stories about his childhood, his wife, his kids. There were stories he told me about his own gpa, the many jobs that he had worked, and I can still hear him say "Brooklyn" in that thick northeast coast accent. Sometimes he'd tell the same story, forgetting a few more details from the time he had told it before. There were stories I would ask about that he couldn't remember. But there was one thing Mr B never forgot - he was deeply & unconditionally loved by a mighty God, even in the middle of all of his mess.
My path with Mr B crossed almost 7 years ago. I was immediately drawn to him because I watched the way he would interact with my children. He loved children unless, of course, they touched his cane - even though it was just a Swiffer handle this week - but that's another story for another day. Watching this 90lbs man throw a football with the boys was sometimes the highlight of our Sunday mornings together. One Christmas when we were trying to unravel the Christmas light ball, he wound himself up & urged the kids to plug him in like a Christmas tree.
We would look for him, and a few others, as we drove through certain parts of town. I always had to keep the windows unlocked so that the kids could, at a moment's notice, roll them down & yell, "Hey Mr B!" while they waved so hard I thought their hands would fall off. We'd see him in the rear view mirror, just a shakin' that cane in the air. My kids loved him unconditionally.
So tonight when I sat them down on the couch to tell them, I knew their hearts would be broken. We talked about our favorite Mr B moments & how much they'd miss him. I told them the message my friend relayed from his son, "At least we know he's not suffering anymore." And that's when it hit me - I've only ever known a broken Mr B, weighed down by the death of his wife, his go-to coping technique, & a very fractured body & mind. But the next time I see Mr B, he will be completely whole! He won't need a cane - though I'm sure he'll call it a staff just so that he can carry around a stick. He won't need shoes or a new pair of pants. And he won't need to cope with anything. I shared that with the kids & watched their sad faces change with the realization of the hope that brought.
Though gma's life was radically different from Mr B's, I knew I could share with them the same hope we found in October when we read some verses from Revelation - He's serving God in his temple, day & night. The sun isn't scorching him anymore & the heat doesn't beat down in him. He's not hungry. He's not thirsty. And God himself has once & for all wiped away all of Mr B's tears.
I'm going to miss Mr B but had I not taken the time to just sit & listen to him, I wouldn't even know his name, let alone his story. It's so easy for us to throw well meaning things, possessions, at people in hopes that we might fix what ails them. But all that stuff wears out or gets used up or lost. What doesn't wear out or get used up or lost is the time we spend just loving them. Mr B wasn't always an easy man to love, but then again, neither am I. Thankfully Jesus loves us both enough that we learned from Him how to love each other. Unconditionally.
This is Mr B. He had a name. Billy. But he also has a title - Son of The King.
