Another day in Sarasota
He was microwaving some sandwiches in my local convenience store. I reached over to pour a coffee. He flashed me a gorgeous smile, thinking that he was in my way.
I assured him that this was not the case, and moved away to add some cream. I went back to him and said “We do not all hate you, you know”. He was puzzled. “Immigrants” I said. “We are not all bad” he replied. “I know that”, was my reply. He smiled again and we shook hands. (I am an immigrant too!).
“Fred” was in jail for 34 years for murdering a prison guard. He is cagey. He utters possible threats - “I’ll not be pushed around”. He was talking to C, one of our Resurrection House Volunteers. She was nervous. Me too, but I rescued her by calling him to his shower at Resurrection House. We do not want to offend him.
“Tim” asked me to take care of his belongings. He is an affable Irishman. I told him that I could not be responsible if they were stolen, but he took the chance. His belongings were in well cared for suitcases.
An hour later “Tim’s” girlfriend returned. He had been arrested for an open bottle violation (drinking beer in public) and the police had discovered his outstanding warrants. No saint, he was in the clink on $15,000 bail. She asked “will you take care of his belongings?” Another volunteer named Mike and I agreed to break the Res House rules and store them in the back room.
Who knows if they will be there when he is released from jail?
“Flo” was in my face when first I met her at Res House. She was suspicious to the limit. She is short, wears a cap all the time, and has a boyfriend. She is in her mid-forties.
One day I risked a joke with “Flo”. That was all she needed. The barriers fell.
Today she came over to chat. It all came out. She’d just left a psych. unit in SRQ.
She’d been there cos she was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
She had buried her pain in booze, but wanted to get better.
Better from what?
Better from the molestation from her father when she was eight. Better from the rape by her grandfather when she was ten
The whole story came out to me in tears. I listened.
Then I moved around from my counter, and hugged her. It was a long, safe, very safe hug.
She relaxed, cried, and said “thanks, I needed that” She needed a safe hug from a man who was old enough to be her father.
I came out of “Whole Foods Market” this afternoon and wandered to my car. Then I saw “Carlos” who’d been at Res House earlier in the day - his first visit.
I hailed him and he smiled. Maybe his first smile of the day. He remembered that I was “Pastor Michael”
“I am down to my last cigarette" he said, “could you give me one?”
I reached into my shirt pocket and gave him a pack with five or six cigarettes in it. “Take this”, I said, “I have more at home“.
He smiled again, and said “thank you Padre Miguel”.
The sacrament of nicotine?
Another day in Sarasota.
I assured him that this was not the case, and moved away to add some cream. I went back to him and said “We do not all hate you, you know”. He was puzzled. “Immigrants” I said. “We are not all bad” he replied. “I know that”, was my reply. He smiled again and we shook hands. (I am an immigrant too!).
“Fred” was in jail for 34 years for murdering a prison guard. He is cagey. He utters possible threats - “I’ll not be pushed around”. He was talking to C, one of our Resurrection House Volunteers. She was nervous. Me too, but I rescued her by calling him to his shower at Resurrection House. We do not want to offend him.
“Tim” asked me to take care of his belongings. He is an affable Irishman. I told him that I could not be responsible if they were stolen, but he took the chance. His belongings were in well cared for suitcases.
An hour later “Tim’s” girlfriend returned. He had been arrested for an open bottle violation (drinking beer in public) and the police had discovered his outstanding warrants. No saint, he was in the clink on $15,000 bail. She asked “will you take care of his belongings?” Another volunteer named Mike and I agreed to break the Res House rules and store them in the back room.
Who knows if they will be there when he is released from jail?
“Flo” was in my face when first I met her at Res House. She was suspicious to the limit. She is short, wears a cap all the time, and has a boyfriend. She is in her mid-forties.
One day I risked a joke with “Flo”. That was all she needed. The barriers fell.
Today she came over to chat. It all came out. She’d just left a psych. unit in SRQ.
She’d been there cos she was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
She had buried her pain in booze, but wanted to get better.
Better from what?
Better from the molestation from her father when she was eight. Better from the rape by her grandfather when she was ten
The whole story came out to me in tears. I listened.
Then I moved around from my counter, and hugged her. It was a long, safe, very safe hug.
She relaxed, cried, and said “thanks, I needed that” She needed a safe hug from a man who was old enough to be her father.
I came out of “Whole Foods Market” this afternoon and wandered to my car. Then I saw “Carlos” who’d been at Res House earlier in the day - his first visit.
I hailed him and he smiled. Maybe his first smile of the day. He remembered that I was “Pastor Michael”
“I am down to my last cigarette" he said, “could you give me one?”
I reached into my shirt pocket and gave him a pack with five or six cigarettes in it. “Take this”, I said, “I have more at home“.
He smiled again, and said “thank you Padre Miguel”.
The sacrament of nicotine?
Another day in Sarasota.
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