Diary: 11/3/2008…

(an unvarnished view of a typical atypical day…)

At 6:30am I am startled awake by an insanely loud motorcycle flying by (we live on a major street). A few seconds later I heard a police car fly by. I smile. Justice.

I can see a light coming from under the closet door. Hannah is hanging out with Jesus, in the closet, like usual. I smile again. I’m a blessed man. I reach for a book my Uncle Dave and Aunt Susan sent me called, Same Kind of Different as me. This chapter is written from a homeless man’s perspective. His perspective on the rich white folks that volunteer at the mission more for themselves than for the homeless is insightful, and convicting. After finishing the short chapter I read my bookmark- a note card with scripture on it.

“Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand–shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.

-Matthew 5:14-16

The phrase, “Keep open house; be generous with your lives” hits me in the heart, because well, I’m good at keeping closed house and being selfish with my life. I ask Him for His generous and open heart.

Hannah brings me some Raisin Bran and a reminder that I’m going to be late if I don’t get moving. So I inhale the roughage and roll.

Jim does devotions on David and Goliath. During the Spanish version I kept thinking about Park Lane and how much dauntingly bigger than me it feels. I find some encouragement thinking about how at least I’m on the battlefield, but then at the same time, it feels like I’ve got grapes in my sling shot while my enemy has a tank, but then I’m reminded that it’s not about my abilities but His, and how He is greater than my enemy, way greater, but then why is the giant still standing there and laughing at me… My conversation with myself is interrupted by a sweet old Hispanic lady that is standing next to me holding out her hand. It’s time to sing in the front room.

I grab some diapers and formula for my E.S.L. ladies from #10 and head out to Park Lane. After driving a few blocks, this car in front of me starts slowing way down- irritation sets in. I’d honk, but I’m too chicken. Then they move a lane over to my left- ahhh. I speed up, and then this car s l o w l y turns back in front of me like I’m not there and heads into a parking lot on my right. I mash on the brakes hard and they let out a dramatic squeal. I’m certain I’m toast. I swerve and come within inches of a serious wreck. My heart is pounding and the adrenaline is cranking. What just happened!?? A couple of blocks later I remember I have a horn and honk.

At Park Lane I chat a bit with the office ladies and then sit down for some quality time with the Lord. I’m reading in Zechariah but for some reason nothing is sticking in my brain and all I can think about is what Tilly was talking about on Sunday. “Today could be the day we see Him face to face” she kept saying. I write, “Today could be the day” on a name tag sticker and put it on my desk. I start thinking about what if today was the day with that ridiculous driver earlier. I get lost in this thought for a while, when suddenly there’s a pounding at the door.

It’s Evristo, my 68 year old ornery cowboy E.S.L. student. He’s 45 minutes early to E.S.L. class, like usual, and instead of welcoming him warmly I force a smile and say, “Hola Evristo, tu es mucho temprano” (you’re way early man) and point at the table where we have class. He shoots me a toothless smile and makes his way to the table. I’m thinking he can sit there while I finish up my quiet time. As I sit down in my office I hear a phrase whispered in my ear, “Keep open house; be generous with your lives”.

I smile, shake my head and whisper to myself, “You’re slow dude,” as I grab my E.S.L. stuff, some water and some candy for Everisto (he’s addicted). Class goes well and after class I ask if anyone has any needs. Isela needs a blender, the last one I brought her exploded apparently, Norma and Senobia’s little girls both have coughs and colds and Everisto’s back is hurting him and he also needs a fan.

While we’re talking, a mother of two kids that come faithfully to Bible Study comes in and sits down on the other side of the room. I wrap up the conversation with my class and head over to the mother. I introduce myself and ask her how it’s going. Her daughter’s glasses are broken and she’s wondering if I can help.

I can quickly see that asking for help is a new and uncomfortable thing for her. I am also sensing that there are more needs than just glasses. After some gentle prodding I find out that it’s her daughter’s birthday the next day and that she has told her daughter that there is no money for a birthday cake or presents. Losing a good paying job and her husband leaving has left her and her bank broken.

I ask her if we can talk with God about her situation. The God that has never created a giant He couldn’t lay the smack-down down on and who loves us both more than we love ourselves. She says, “Please” and God reminds both of us that He is indeed capable to handle the giants He allows to cross our paths. After sharing a snotty tearful moment, I take off to see what I can find at the Mission.

As I begin shopping for the birthday girl at the mission I realize that all I know is that she is addicted to reading. So I start digging through the book bins that Matt is filling with donated books, and come up with nothing. Then I ask Tilly if I can go to the Mission’s Christmas store and see what I can find. She takes me up there and I’m quickly overwhelmed by the massive amount of gift action. No books though, and I’m drawing a blank as to what a teen age girl would even want. I run into Barbara up there and ask her. She says, “Something she can take a bath with.” “Like a rubber ducky?” I ask.

Apparently that is NOT what you get a teenage girl, because duh, what teenage girl would like that? But the basket of bubble bath and good smelling girl stuff that was sitting right in front of me was. Jackpot. So I grab some board games just in case she’s not down with the flowery fragrances and lock up the store. As I’m leaving, Matt calls and says someone just brought in a bunch of girl books I should check out.

As I’m heading towards Matt and the books, I bump into Linda and ask her if she’s seen any blenders come in. Just so happens that someone just brought in a brand new one. Sweet. I look up and smile. So I throw it in my plastic tub and head towards the carport where the books would be. Matt points me to a pile of books that are like a list of all the books that I’ve ever heard girls like. Books like Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, Jane Austen books, The Secret Garden, the Little Princess, the whole set of Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and a ton more. I look up and smile. I head over to number 10 try and find a birthday cake. There just happened to be 2 giant cakes with price tags totaling around $50. I look up and smile- One cake so we can celebrate at our Park Lane after school program and one for their house. On my way out the door I notice a box of random stuff. On top of the random stuff is a box of back pain medicine. Right beside it are two bottles of children’s cough and cold medicine. I look up and start laughing.

On my way to the car Tillie brings me a fan for Evristo and I’m off. On my way back to Park Lane Hannah calls telling me she loves me. I look up and smile. I arrive at the mother’s apartment and am hoping I beat the son and daughter home so the presents can be from the mom and not the Mission. As I start unloading the tub of goodies on her kitchen counter she puts her hands over her mouth. No words are necessary. I give her a hug and leave with a smile on my face as wide as Texas.

Then I headed back to the Park Lane club house for our after school program. We start out playing soccer. My hope is to burn their energy out. Like usual it just amps them up even more. After they (me) get physically exhausted with the soccer, the winning team splits a Gatorade and shares the leftovers with the non winning team. Then after being exposed to profuse begging, I cave and agree to two rounds of hide and go seek. During the second round, no one can find Caleb or Titus, so we break out the cake and sing happy birthday and discussed the best and worse things from this past year. This portion of the evening went on for 20-30 minutes.

As the discussion is winding down someone reminds me that Caleb and Titus are still nowhere to be found. Oh yeah, where are those boys? Suddenly out pops Titus from behind a filing cabinet. By the looks of things, he chose to use the bathroom where he was hiding instead of being found. Caleb then pops out from behind the book case where he’s been hiding in the fetal position for a half hour. Can’t sit still for five minutes for school but when winning a game is on the line… where does this level of extreme competitiveness come from? I hug both of them and tell them how proud I am of them and tell them they can use all their bottled up energy to help clean. Ok, I guess not.

We begin cleaning so we can get home but it’s taking way longer than I was hoping, probably because of the cake fight that broke out and left mucho cake carnage before I could stop it. So finally everything is put back in place just as the wave of kids that go the school’s after school program (detention) show up. So we do the same dance again, cake fight included. I keep telling myself, “Keep open house; be generous with your lives”.

So finally everything is put back, again, and we’re heading out when one of the worst younger kids comes in demanding cake. I say, “Sorry man, you should have come on time.” I’m thinking, be generous sure, but I need to teach this one to show up on time and not be so demanding.

Well he goes to the floor in tears and starts wailing like a dog that just had his tail stepped on. Hannah comes in and has mercy on him by offering a piece of cake that was left out that has a bite out of it. He takes the cake and throws it at the trash can. “Das nasty! I ain’t leaving till I get me a ho piece” he says. I’m conflicted. Part of me wants to tazer this sweet little angel to make the squealing stop, and the other part of me genuinely wants to help, but I’m feeling like I can’t give him cake now or he’ll pull out the drama queen card every time to get his way. I’m tired of fighting so I offer him a piece of candy if he’ll just head home. He doesn’t like it but he knows this is his last shot at a sugar fix. So he heads out the door and is greeted by this crowd of kids that have been attracted by his howling.

Before I can get the candy to him the crowd had verbally started poking at him. He immediately starts giving it back plus a barrage of spicy language. The crowd ooos and ahhhhs about the language because he’s letting it fly in front of brother Jonathan. Then in a flash he starts swinging at anyone that gets close to him. This gets the crowd riled up even more and they began to poke at him like he’s a sick dog, just to get a reaction. I stand there stunned as my brain tries to process what it’s seeing. Then the reality of the situation sets in and I start yelling at everyone to stop. No one is listening to me at this point and some kind of weird kind of mob mentality had taken over. So I start trying to catch the kid so I can carry him home while at the same time scolding all the other kids who don’t seem to care. I’m feeling like I’m just another clown in this ghetto circus. Finally big sister shows up and grabs little brother and drags him home. I hand big sister the piece of candy and tell her to give it to little brother when she gets home. She looks at me like I’m handing her an aspirin for her brother who is on fire. Shoot, she’s right.

After making sure they get home, my redlined brain and I make our way to the car. Hannah has been waiting for me in the van and asks me how everything went. “Not good” is all I can articulate. On the ride home I’m overwhelmed with feelings of getting trounced by a three and a half foot tall giant. As I’m sitting at a major light the car dies. I’m at the front of the traffic line and all the patient folks behind me kindly encourage my car with their horns. I hit the steering wheel and mutter, “Are you kidding me?” Eventually I get it going but can’t go because some homeless looking dude with no shoes is slowly riding his junky bike in front of me.

Mr. Slowmovingbikebum turns and looks at me as he’s passing by. As his haggard eyes meet mine, my frustration turns into a solemn reminder that my problems are really nothing compared to this guy. I try to focus on all of the victories of the day rather than the brutal ending and keep telling myself that it’s better to have waves crash over you on the water then to live in the safety of a boat. I still feel discouraged and just want to get home.

After what seems like an eternity I get home, hug my wife and kids with the lamest “anaconda squeeze” ever and collapse into the first available chair at the kitchen table. It dawns on me that I haven’t eaten since the raisin bran encounter, with the exception of the frosting flower from the birthday cake. Hannah informs me that it’s enchilada night. Thank you God, and Hannah too.

The rest of the evening is a blur but I remember smiling and saying “That’s awesome,” and “Uh-huh,” to my kids a lot.

I feel loved, satisfied and content, and really tired and overwhelmed at the same time.