Sunday, January 16, 2011

Forgetful

I usually do not think about my raincoat.

You see, raincoats fall into the category of 'things you forget you need until you really need them'. Other items that exist in this place are windshield wipers, pocket change, cell phone chargers, extra-strength Rolaids, and the copy of your 'Jock Jams' CD from the 90's.

The rain coat seems a little more important because it directly affects your immediate comfort. And on those days, if it were actually possible, I would give myself a swift kick. I always think to myself, "Why did I forget to grab that raincoat?" (I guess it is good that the swift kick to oneself is impossible here, because not only would I be soaked, I would be limping as well. )


Most days, I just leave my raincoat inside of the car. This is usually not a problem-as long as the rain starts while I am driving. But there are the times that the raincoat is in the car and I am soaked before I remember its location because I did not look at the Weather Channel, my weather phone app, or the sky.



Then there are the days that the raincoat is in the house and I am well on my way to a busy day, halfway across town when the skies open and the floods come.

I always think to myself, "Why did I forget to grab that raincoat?"


One morning, I hurried out of the house, ran to church, and hopped on a fifteen passenger bus on the way to downtown Chattanooga. It was an early start because my friend Kevin and I had signed up to help the Homeless Coalition with a project. Our mission: To shuttle homeless men and women from all over Chattanooga to a convention for the purposes of helping them find good places to stay, places to eat, rehabilitate (if necessary), get hair cuts and hygiene products, and hopefully find employment.

We rode downtown and Kevin and I picked up our first group at a local shelter. Everyone filed into the back of the bus. Conversation was at a minimum (I do remember vain attempts to talk about football with some of the guys). For the first half hour, we were all pretty quiet with the exception of a gentleman who was ever so thankful for what we were doing. He was a guy who most of us probably drive by every day. Nothing really stood out to me about him.

Well, I take that back. I do remember one thing-he didn't bring his raincoat.

Then there was the next stop at a downtown hotel that runs discounts for the local homeless population. The energy in our bus picked up and our we talked about life-normal, everyday life. This crew was pretty open about bad life decisions that had put a hold on everything else. Some shared about drugs, alcohol, children they had not seen. Others talked about losing jobs because of the economy. The reasons for their situation were mixed bag of poor decisions, an inability to 'bounce back', and a recession.

None of them remembered their raincoats, either.

Our third trip was probably the most eventful. Somewhere on the interstate, a conversation started about what they were having for lunch at our destination (no one knew). This evolved into a full-scale discussion between Kevin and the rest of the bus. If this were a segment on a reality television show, it would be called "The Weirdest Thing I Have Ever Eaten." It started with words like 'duck' and deer then escalated to 'bear', 'snake', and 'guinea pig' (I almost inserted 'St. Bernard' and/or 'my nephew', but deemed it inappropriate). One guy kept reiterating that he had also eaten 'raccoon' and that 'turtles have seven different types of meat'( I learned a life lesson in the midst of this-never have a competition with a homeless guy about who has eaten the weirdest food). We dropped them off for lunch and watched them all run inside.

They ran pretty quickly-because none of them had their raincoats.


Finally, a gentleman got on the bus and introduced himself to everyone riding. he then pulled out his harmonica and began to jam before telling us that he had toured with both Bob Dylan and none other than the King, Elvis Presley. He then played a couple more tunes before singing some of Elvis's hits for a crowd that was evidently more drawn towards the Beatles (or the Bee Gees, Jimmy Hendrix, or anyone other than the guy singing). When we dropped him off, he asked a few questions that I did not have answers to about the event, and walked off, leaving his seat soaking wet.

He had forgotten to bring his raincoat, too. Along with countless other men, women, and kids.

It is easy to look at a situation and disconnect yourself with cliches like 'they made their own bed' or 'better them than me.' The difficulty comes when we have conversations with people and look them in the face. Difficult decisions are made when we sacrifice for someone else-when we see those who are less fortunate as people-not a problem. While many of us find verses that are for us that we are happy to put on coffee cups or FB statuses, there are multiple references to the people of God taking care of the poor that have been ignored because we have decided those verses are for someone else. It has been said, "The problem is not that Christians don't see the poor; the problem is that we don't know the poor."

There are everyday things that all of us can do. I am, by no means, an expert. I am consistently reminded of my inconsistencey-where I fall short in all of this, when I am less than caring, overwhelming selfish, and absolutely ungracious. However, where I fall short, my Lord does not. He is gracious, selfless, and caring-and has asked the same of me and empowered me to walk with him in His infinite goodness. In Him, I can do "all things." I can, at the very least, look through my closet or act like the $2 I give to a guy on the street isn't going to cause my head to fall off or take food out of my kids' mouth.

I'm just a guy with a raincoat.

Chances are-you're just a guy with a raincoat, too.

Any questions about what you can do, feel free to www.homelesscoalition.org