The Superpower of Presence

I’d like to share a lovely (in the end) story from yesterday.

I was in my office at the church, and one of our staff members called. She was a block away, and a young man was having a medical emergency, and was that the sort of thing that a pastor might want to know or help out with. I said yes, and my co-pastor/husband and I went out.

Indeed, a young man had collapsed next to his car after stopping at the local bakery. Our colleague and another bystander had called 911, and had determined that the man spoke Spanish. I remember a decent amount of my high school Spanish, enough to reassure him that help was on the way. In the meantime, a woman who lived in the condo in front of where the young man collapsed came out to see if she could help, as did someone from the bakery.

Eventually a police officer arrived, and I think his heart was lightened that it was not a fentanyl overdose, which he has experienced a lot of lately. He made sure the paramedics were on their way, and soon enough, the EMT/firefighters arrived. I don’t know how to ask, “Are you dizzy?” in Spanish, but I was able to tell the EMTs that he had a horrible headache. I think I told the man I was a pastor and would pray for him, but I might have said that I was a shepherdess with gold. The police officer was able to use the emergency contact on the young man’s phone and reached his spouse. The ambulance came, started an IV, and took him to the hospital.

I went to the hospital, mostly because I wanted the man’s spouse to have someone to talk to about what happened. The fellow at the ED check-in desk could not have been any nicer. He took my card and heard the story which he said he would pass on to the man. I then found a chaplain, who was equally kind. I do wonder what they thought of me and my boundaries – but I figured I wasn’t violating any HIPAA things and I left the ball in their court to contact me.

This morning when I got to the office, the man’s spouse had left me a voicemail, thanking me and all those who helped. And then just as I sat down to write this post, the young man called. He was relieved I spoke Spanish. (I told him he needed to speak slowly.) He was better, and home, and he really just want to say thank you. But we agreed to get together for coffee next week.

So thank you to the strangers who noticed a young man in pain and stopped to help. Thank you to the neighbor and the bakery worker. Thank you to the first responders and EMTs and the hospital staff.

Remember, friends: kindness is never wasted. Being present to others really is a superpower.

And now I’m going to go brush up on my Spanish!

“May I speak with you…”, part 2

OpenDoorLogoYesterday’s post about my visit from Joy was read by many, at least in terms of my stats.  I appreciate the comments, likes, and shares.  Today I received a message from a minister colleague in another part of the state a few hours away.  Joy had visited her, too, a few weeks ago, and my friend had a similar experience of listening to her and helping her out.  I am grateful she let me know.

And then I checked to see if I felt that thing I sometimes feel when I’ve helped a complete stranger: did I feel as though I had been duped, taken advantage of, conned?

In every church I have served,  people come to church to ask for help, some in truly desperate situations and some looking for a handout.  I believe in handouts, to a point; I think sometimes what a person most needs is $20 to buy what they want.  But I also know that sometimes I have helped someone who then tells all his friends who also come seeking help.  Or in one town where I worked, I listened to a guy poor out his soul about his family being innocent bystanders victimized by a crime, only to learn a a few weeks later that another pastor in town had heard the same story from the same guy the year before.

After twenty or so years of pastoring, I’ve decided I would rather err on the side of kindness, knowing that some of the people I help are really not all that desperate. So with regards to Joy, did I feel duped?

No.

Anytime I hear a stranger tell me his or her story and then ask me for help, I know that person might not be telling me the truth or even the whole truth.  I know people take advantage of the kindness of churches and pastors and church secretaries.  I also know that sometimes a church is one of the few places where someone will be treated with dignity and respect, regardless of their truthfulness.

My parents were both born in the 1930’s and their early childhoods were marked by the Great Depression.  Neither grew up in families that were neither destitute nor wealthy; my grandfathers were both employed and my grandmothers ran their households with great efficiency.  My dad was one of three children, my mom one of six.  My mother remembers that whenever someone would come to the door looking for food, my grandmother would give that person something – a sandwich, an apple, toast with jelly.  My grandfather worked in construction, and if a day laborer was needed, my grandmother would mention that to the person at the door.

To be kind is to risk being taken advantage of.  To be generous is to choose to use resources for one thing and not for another.  As a pastor, I have a sense that the time I have and the resources I offer are not solely mine; they are part of the congregation as well, and I want to be a good steward of their gifts. And sometimes I act on behalf of the congregation to live out the commands that Jesus gave.

So I don’t know if my Joy will come your way, or when another Joy will present herself to you.  I don’t know what you will decide to do. I don’t know how you will make your decision.  But maybe we all need a little Joy in our lives, for so many reasons.

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