Something special for Mary

What happens when a thrift store volunteer and his wife follow Jesus’ lead in showing tenderness to ‘the least of these’?

Anonymous

Waterloo, Ont.

Given his state, what, I wondered, could this man do for his wife?

I woke up filled with curiosity. What would I experience this day? My volunteer job as truck driver for a thrift shop on Monday mornings always brings surprises. My helper is a street person, someone needing money whom the store hires for four hours.

To my surprise, every helper has a strong work ethic and seeks ways to be helpful. They are gracious with donors. We groan together as we move yet another heavy sofa bed—sometimes only good for the dump—from a basement through a narrow hall, around a corner and out the door, the last thrust being onto the truck!

Some of my helpers are relatively quiet, but most prefer to talk. I listen attentively to stories, many of which prick my middle class ears. These stories cover the gamut: youths, parents, employment and unemployment, maybe a work-related accident, the struggle to live. I learn of rooming houses, alcohol and drugs. One helper picks through his plastic bag of cigarette butts as he rolls a smoke.

Bill* is a likeable fellow. At 34, he’s not on drugs or alcohol. He learned to lay flooring in college and worked at his profession for several years. The day we worked together he was grateful for these few hours of paid work. He was hopeful of finding employment.

“Where do you get food to eat?” I asked.

“From the soup kitchen—and we get supper and breakfast,” he replied.

“Are you in a rooming house for accommodation?”

“Out of the Cold,” he said.

My gut was pierced. I had been to an Out of the Cold church gymnasium. Ten of our church people volunteer there. He said this was a bit difficult for his wife, Mary*.

I thought of the guest bedroom in our home, where guests we choose stay when they visit. I also knew Jesus spoke and acted with tenderness for the poor.

Bill said he would like to do something special for Mary on Valentine’s Day, only two days away. Given his state, what, I wondered, could this man do for his wife?

At home after work I relayed the morning’s events to my wife Stella* with mixed joy and sadness. I then made a proposal. “Could we have them spend Valentine’s night with us?”

The response was exactly what anyone would expect—fear!

“We don’t know them,” she said, asking, “Would it be safe?” She gave deep thought to it all in the afternoon. In the evening she asked about details and then calmly gave her approval.

The next day I went to the soup kitchen and asked about Bill and Mary. I found them sleeping in a corner of the diningroom floor. I aroused him and asked him what he thought of the plan. He was pleased, wishing to keep it a secret from his wife.

The next evening, a cold snowy night, I picked them up. Stella warmly greeted them and offered tea. We chatted in the livingroom. My wife offered them towels for a bath. Mary immediately leapt up and took a bath. The evening went well.

As we all retired Bill indicated that an 8 a.m. breakfast would work well. The next morning, there was no stirring by 9. We wondered what to do. Stella said they likely needed sleep more than anything else. At 10:45 they appeared. We had breakfast, chatted again and they signed our guest book before I took them back to the soup kitchen.

Mary wrote, “Thanks you so much for providing me with a peaceful shelter.” Bill added, “I thank you . . . for sheltering us through our storm. May God bless you.”

This event lingers in our minds and hearts. We perceived it as a great risk, yet it is an act that Jesus clearly asks of us: “Just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40).

* All names are pseudonyms.