Darrell: Now, I Understand...
This man is severely challenged by mental/emotional instabilities that make his life and communication quite difficult. He does not bathe, shave, or change clothes, which makes him scary and readily avoidable to most people. His conversations are scattered with disjointed reasonings and colorful epitaths. He hears voices. But, I like the guy. As far as I can tell he is harmless. He asked if he could live behind the church in his truck, and I said no. I offered once again to help him find an apartment or a group home, and there was no way he would even consider such possibilities. He quotes scriptures and is actually quite knowledgeable of the Bible and religious matters in general. But just as we might begin a reasonable conversation, he is liable to tell me that he is Jesus Christ or that my car is God. The poor guy is most often irrational and incomprehensible, although I am sure in his own mind he makes perfect sense. But he is a good man with admirable qualities. He is gentle of demeanor and behavior, and I do not think he would ever hurt another person. He is absolutely willing, even eager, to sacrifice his last penny to help others. The niceties of life and trappings of money have no hold upon him. He is refreshingly transparent and honest.
After about thirty minutes of his often disjointed ramblings, I was ready to go back into the house and let him travel on down the road. Somehow his talk moved to the subject of his mother and became fascinating to me. He said his mother would throw him against the wall, and made him to wear courderoy pants to cover the cuts and bruises. I asked him to elaborate. His real parents both died in an auto accident and he was raised in a foster home. Apparently this woman was quite abusive. He said he was forced to do all the household chores, as the birth-children joined in the ridicule and abuse. And he repeated to me, several times, of the day he became so angry he got a can of gasoline and hammer, intending to burn her alive and then beat her to death with the hammer. I asked how old he was when this happened, and he said about 5 or 6. I looked into his eyes, which usually dart to and fro and avoid contact. He was staring directly my way. I could see the pain in the eyes of this good and troubled man, clouded and deep and set. I asked him to tell me more about the abuse. There were many episodes. And there were matters he could not put into words, obviously dark and unspeakable.
And then I understood, at least a little. No wonder this man is so strange and troubled. How could he not be? In his life, as a little boy, he faced evil I could scarcely imagine. And he has dealt with the wounds and scars as best he could. Really, he is a remarkable man. As he stood there, I wanted to give him a hug. I didn't, which says more about me than him.
"Before you abuse, criticize and accuse... walk a mile in my shoes." - Joe South
"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." - Hebrews 13:2
