gary

It was another sunny, spring day in March as I made my way back to work from my lunch break. As I slowed to a stop, I saw him. Walking parallel to my car was an unkempt, middle aged man wearing the shirt of my alma-mater. As he hobbled closer, I could see his leathery, dark skin deepened by the folds of his face. His midsection ballooned from his otherwise thin figure. His face embraced years of anguish and spoke stories of pain. He needed something. I went through the typical war in my heart of what to do as I sat miserably at that light on Dauphin street. I looked down in my cup-holder and behold, there lay a five-dollar bill. This time would be different. I rolled down my window as the light changed and rolled forward to meet the man, handing him the paper out of my passenger side window. He looked up and pointed to the sky as if to say, "thank You" or "there is a God". He told me, "thanks, brother" as I spilled words about him wearing a University of Mobile shirt. He grabbed my hand with an irremovable grip and I caught a glimpse of his piercing, crystal blue eyes. In that moment, I wasn't questioning his motives or wondering what he would do with the money. He was grateful and relieved. He had been waiting all day for that money and I was able to provide. I drove back to the office feeling somewhat accomplished.

That wasn't my only encounter with Gary. Not three days later, I was again driving to work when I saw him at the same light, with the same pained expression and the same need. I passed him on my way to grab a bite and when I went through the drive-thru, I couldn't help but think of him. So, I turned around and pulled in the parking lot beside that stop light. "You hungry, man?" I asked him. To my surprise, his answer was, "Man, I can't eat" as he lifted his shirt to reveal a large mass in his stomach. He proceeded to tell me about health issues that took away his appetite and body's ability to process food. He told me of his battered friendship with alcohol and drugs and inability to maintain a steady job. He told me about his hospital visits. He was homeless, close to death and without a real friend. I listened intently to his words, but didn't want to go beyond handing him that sandwich.

A few days later, I found him again around the same light. This time, he managed to get my cell phone number out of me, though I was unsure if it was sane or safe to let him. I felt the need to go beyond giving him spare change or lip service, so I told him to call me if he needed anything. And he did.

In the coming weeks I would receive several phone calls from Gary. Some just because he wanted to talk to, to listen to his story, to share in his suffering. One day, he asked to buy him some dog food. He loved that mutt more than anything and wanted to make sure it would survive. I took it to a random house where he asked me to leave it with a guy named John. This guy asked me, "why are you doing this for him? you should really watch out". He thought I was a creep when I stammered "I'm j-just doing this out of love, b-b-because I care." Needless to say, Gary called later to thank me for that dog food. Another day he asked me to buy him some groceries. I thought, "oh, it can't be too much" so I did. He gave me a long list of items from dog food to bratwurst to college ruled paper. He said to meet him in John's driveway and he would take me to his spot in the woods. I don't know what made me think it was a good idea to follow a homeless guy into the woods on a rainy afternoon, but I did anyway. When I pulled up to the driveway, he met me with a strained smile and a grateful heart. I followed him as he hobbled across the street through a narrow clearing in the woods. When I turned the corner, I saw a large campsite with several tents and fire pits. Proudly, he pointed to his tent, wedged between some trees and covered by an old, ratty tarp. Another guy named Mel (Gary called him a trustworthy friend) peeked out of his tent and helped us sort out the groceries. Being my first time in a homeless person's "home", I attempted to treat it as if it were any other person's suburban house. I made mention of the cooler posing as a fridge, his makeshift dining table and reliable rooftop canopy provided by several pine trees. It was home as he knew it, but I could not imagine the discomfort of sleeping in that environment night after night. I didn't stay long, but he made sure I knew how much he appreciated me.

Over the next few months, Gary would call me, but I didn't answer. I was worried about him developing an attachment, or using me for money. I didn't want the "responsibility" of tending to his needs all the time. After several missed calls, he left me a pleading voicemail, telling me how little concern he had for my money or things-he just wanted my friendship. He didn't care that I couldn't get him the bike tire he needed or fund his cell phone minutes, he just wanted someone to talk to and encourage him. He wanted someone to encourage him that one day his pain would be over and his soul restored. He shared his love for the Lord and how he had changed his life. He begged me to call him back.

It took me weeks to get back to him, right around the time of my wedding. I had felt guilty. I had tried to disconnect myself from him, avoiding his calls and pleas for an ear. So, I called to let him know that everything was ok-that he had not made me mad or hurt me-and that I still wanted to be his friend. He wished me the best of luck for our wedding day and wanted to see me sometime when we got back. I never got to see him.

It was a beautiful Saturday in September when I got the call from Mel. With a quivering voice he told me that Gary had died. He rode a bus to Chicago so that his family could take care of him. After being there a few weeks, his health failed him. I didn't know what to say. Mel was overcome with emotion and I just sat on the other line, wondering how to respond. It was a sick feeling to know that someone I had just spent the past six months in a relational limbo with ceased to exist any longer. Yet, I suppressed it. The conversation ended in a matter of minutes, and I knew that that was the last connection I would ever have to Gary.

The guilt was overwhelming. I had to deal with my inability to deliver for this man, but more importantly, my often uncompassionate heart. Sometimes it was too inconvenient to help him, to answer his phone calls, to listen to his story. I'm having to rid my heart of it. Yet still, I was able to look through the eyes of a needy and broken homeless man and see my own reflection. I am a sick, dependent, insecure creature in a world that I cannot legitimately call my home and I long for the day of restoration for my own soul. Something that Gary burned for in his last days here, but now is experiencing in abundance as he dances in delight before his Creator.

lately

I love my wife. I have always said that she is a side of grace that I had not gotten to experience until I met her, and this continues to hold true. I have learned more in the past four years than I think I learned in the previous twenty before knowing her. I am seeing restoration and healing in fresh ways and my pious religious outlook is being broadened daily by her driving compassion. She is a beautiful gift to me and this world. For anyone eager to see a living, breathing example of grace, please look to her and share in her story.

We have been in the midst of a crazy stretch lately...

Michelle in a full-time (non-paying) internship, attempting to graduate this May, dealing with the pain of losing her mother and grandmother within 2 months of each other, living with me in a dorm with 100 dudes, at a university with a lot of "smiling" faces, looking at potential jobs and grad school...

Trey in a full-time campus job, relationally demanding, part-time worship pastor, slacking as a husband, living in a dorm with michelle (and 100 dudes), organizing a 3-week trip to europe with wife and 4 college students, looking at grad school options for the next year and trying to figure out how to love his wife more...

All this while she has been supportive, loving and gracious to me-even when it has been difficult. Through this stretch we have been learning how to love "in spite of". I am a needy soul searching for the acceptance and affirmation of everyone but Jesus, yet she loves me anyway. She is a needy soul attempting to control her circumstances that for so long were out of her control, yet I try to love her the way she deserves to be loved. It is a beautiful picture of grace. I cannot imagine life without her at my side, as God continues to use her to shape me into who I should become. It has been a rewarding time so far and I am grateful. 

Michelle graduates with a Bachelor's in Social Work from USA on May 14th.

We board the plane to Europe on May 16th. 

Life is crazy, but it is good...