It's getting cold in these parts and my dad often tells stories of store alarms sounding on his beat because a homeless man broke a window in order to be sentenced to the work house to survive. I have never wanted for anything. I've had hard times within the boundaries of my paradigm, but I have never huddled against the cold wondering why the world forgot me as I perished. I always proudly exclaimed that if I were homeless I would live next to a golf course instead in the inner city. A golf course always has an abundance of geese and enough fish to sustain you through summer. Deer are numerous and there is enough forest to disappear in while remaining sheltered. There are water stations for the safety of over heated blokes with funny hats every other hole so you could easily gather the necessary liquid nourishment required unnoticed. Sounds logical and simple but is it?
By the age of fourteen, I had read every book on outdoor survival skills I could get my hands on. I decided to make a break from all the big hoopla at home and I set out to be the next Jeremiah Johnson. I made it seven hours. The land was good, my location was excellent, water supply solid, but I didn't know my ass from a hole in the ground. You can read all you want but doing is a different matter. It's like the line in a Woody Allen movie I remember that said, "Those who can't do teach, those who can't teach, teach gym." I was trying to start a fire and used up a whole box of matches with no success. A friend and his father found me and gave me a ride home. The failure was embarrassing and my dad consoled me by offering two stick to practice rubbing together in my bedroom while I was grounded. Such compassion.
My daughters naturally heard of the man's death and wanted to know why. Harmony surmised that perhaps a big tiger attacked him and she growled and clawed her demonstration. Casey seemed confused that this could happen to someone. "Where was his family?" "Why didn't he take his groceries home?" We should all ask these questions ourselves as a child would.
During Advent I decided to read and pray in my recliner while snug under my favorite blanket. The focus of the readings are on the anticipation of hope. One passage struck me.
Trust in the Lord forever! For the Lord is an eternal Rock. He humbles those in high places, and the lofty city he brings down; he tumbles it to the ground, and levels it with the dust. It is trampled underfoot by the needy, by the footsteps of the poor. (Is 26:1-6)
Compassion for the needy and poor inundates the daily devotions this time of year. When I tried to explain to my daughters why these things happened I couldn't escape the fact that while that man was succumbing to the cold fifty yards away, I was surrounded by creature comforts while reading about Jesus. As I closed my eyes and thanked the Lord for the many blessings someone was closing their eyes for the last time.
Placing our bags of excess on the front porch last week for charity pick-up I felt as if I were contributing to the holiday spirit. That seems comical now knowing that someone lay dead behind my shed. We can't save everyone or be all things to everybody, but I know I can do more to help than just recycling my used garments to make room for newer more fashionable garments. In the future as I walk my daughters through those woods to the school playground I hope I will be reminded of my responsibility as my brother's keeper. Hopefully what I'm feeling won't be lost as the wheel turns. Perhaps this Advent instead of celebrating the anticipated hope of what I can receive, I'll focus on the hope that I won't forget what I can give.
savvy hermit and old friend
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