Raymond Came Over Again

Jesus said also to the man who had invited him, "When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or sisters or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return, and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed because they cannot repay you. You will be repaid at the resurrection of the just." -Luke 14:12-14

I met Raymond one day when I came back from running. I was stretching on my porch and I saw him walking by. We made eye contact, he paused and asked me how I was doing. Casually, I answered "Fine," and shot back, "And you?" His demeanor quickly changed as he went from carefree passerby to intimate confidant, telling me about his struggles.

Apparently, that day, his car had broken down and he ‘just needed a few bucks’ to take the bus back home to East Nashville. I told him that I didn’t have any cash, but I would be happy to help him with anything else he needed. He said he could use some food, and since I needed some milk, I told him to meet me at Eckerd.

Inside, he bought some chips and a Coke, and after paying, I bid him farewell. As I did, he asked me if I knew of any job openings. None came to mind, and I assumed he would eventually find his bus fare and go back to the other side of town.

A few days later, I heard footsteps on my porch late one night. It was Raymond. I asked him what he was doing back in Germantown, and if he was able to fix his car. He said that he hadn’t, but he could use a few dollars to once again ride the bus back home. At this point it was clear: Raymond had no job, no car, and did not live in East Nashville. Or maybe he did, but not in a home or apartment. Again I explained that I usually don’t keep cash, but would be happy to give him something to eat. As he waited on my porch, I packed him a dinner of Pop Tarts, Coke, granola bars, and an apple.

And yet again, last night, while I was engaged in another NPT program, Raymond came knocking. I answered the door and his entreaty was the same. I could tell he felt bad continuing to hit up his usual donor for funds, but I’m sure he had nowhere else to go. He asked if I had any work he could do in exchange for money, maybe some yardwork or cleaning. I told him that at 9 PM, I didn’t have any services that needed rendering, but again I offered him some food. He left happy, asked me to keep him in mind if I needed anything done, and wished me goodnight.

Living in an urban setting has given Lynnette and I our fair share of solicitors. We have never had any Girl Scouts, Shriners or Mormons visit us (not even the Southern Baptists – and we’re only two miles from the headquarters!) as some are used to, but we have had Jackie Chiles and assorted others at all hours ask us for a hand out. I like it because it keeps me on my toes. For me there is no moral dilemma here – I must give to everyone who asks. Maybe it’s easier to give food I may not eat than wads of money, but I know that I’m not happy unless I’m helping someone.

I’m sure Raymond will be back. As much as I’d like to think that because I gave him a sandwich last night, that when someone does give him some money he’ll save it, and when he gets enough he’ll buy a decent shirt and be able to walk into a job interview somewhere, like at a Krystal or Dollar General, and then get a job and save a little more money, and then get an apartment and then somewhere down the line he’ll be a homeowner like me and helping people who knock on his door. But I realize the naivety in this. Mere chance could have had our roles reversed, with me knocking and him answering. But it didn’t happen that way and so I am to sacrifice time away from my program and food away from my pantry. Because in the end, I just may need an escort to get into heaven, and Raymond might be a good one.