"Man, it pours...."

"Seems it never rains in Southern California,
seems I've often heard that kind of talk before.
It never rains in California,
But girl, don't they warn ya,
it pours.
Man, it pours"

A couple of months ago Donna and I made it out to Los Angeles for the weekend after making a delivery there on a Friday. This made us very happy because we would be able to spend the weekend with Terri, my step-daughter who lives there. We got to go to the beach, had lunch on the Santa Monica Pier, and generally observe the bowl of granola (nuts, fruits and flakes) that is life in SoCal. (Photographic evidence is on our Facebook page) It was a little cool with high thin clouds but all in all a lovely day at the beach.

We had parked the truck where Terri works and had to get up early Monday morning to get it out of there before the employees arrived. Well, it was a steady hard cold rain falling, not pleasant at all, and when we got to the truck, the batteries had died and we had to jump it off. Not a great start to the week! We got it to crank, after I had gotten soaking wet, and were off to the truck stop out around Ontario to hang out and wait for the next job. But we missed an exit to I-10 east and had to go up an exit to turn around. Arrgh! Rainy days and mondays, and all that.

We started down the exit ramp and had to stop four or five vehicles short of the intersection due to a traffic light. I looked ahead and saw a figure huddled under what looked like a garbage bag with holes cut out for the head and arms. The person was holding one of those signs that we all have seen; the "will work for food" or "homeless, hungry, please help" variety (Funniest one of those I've seen is "why lie, I need a beer.") Except this sign had been rendered unreadable by the cold hard rain that was pounding the area; the running ink made the sign look like a Rorchach Test. Donna and I were out of cash save for the coins we throw in the ash tray to use for doing laundry. Donna started digging out all the quarters, I was studying the person closer as we waited on the light and said to Donna, "Is that a girl?" The light changed, we started rolling up to the intersection. I let the window down, Donna handed me the large fistful of change, had to be three or four bucks, I slowed as we approached the figure, and I reached out to quickly hand off the money so we wouldn't slow traffic behind us, and I made eye contact with a young woman who would probably be attractive when not looking like a drowned rat.

Now this is a scene that we all face, at least anyone who ever gets out of the house at all anymore. Especially in these economic hard times. And we all have to come to some decision as to how we are going to handle it. I worked with a woman at South Fulton Medical Center who saw the same people with little variation every day at the exit ramp of Cleveland Avenue at I-75. She decided to fix little bags of food with a bible tract and give them to the people on the corner every day. After several days of the same person being there to receive the food, the guy on the corner looked in the bag and groaned, "Tuna AGAIN?" Obviously he hadn't heard the one about the gift horse.

Most people these days turn away. They fall mainly into three camps. One group believes they are all con men and they should go get jobs, another believes that even if they are truly needy, its their own fault it happened so they need to go fix it themselves. Another group sympathizes with them but decides to give money to charities that can better discern between the truly needy and the lazy cons. I have seen both sides of this, having gone to Georgia State University in the late 70's in downtown Atlanta. Yes there are drunks, drug addicts and/or con men out there. And they prey off the sympathy of others, just like there are people who cheat the welfare system and live off the government. And few things rile me more than people who arrogantly believe and act like they are entitled. But I entered into a discussion of this with a friend of mine who was railing over the welfare state in this country and I asked him, "What percentage of the people on welfare are frauds, by your estimate?" I think he said about 40 percent. "So you want to punish the 60 percent who are truly needy and deserving in order to eliminate the frauds?" He didn't have an answer.

Probably my most memorable encounter up to the time of this story came at GSU one night as I was leaving the gym after an activity. A man approached me, one hand was bandaged and the other was holding some papers. The papers were used in the approach, they were from Grady Hospital and were about an injury to his hand, or at least that's what he told me, I didn't look too closely at them. After a brief conversation, it boiled down to that he needed a place to spend the night; it was winter and it was cold. I suggested the mission right around the corner but he said it was full and plus people would rob you there. He knew of a place over by Spring Street that was safe but they charged eight bucks a night and he didn't have it. I was watching and listening to him closely; his eyes were clear and he was fairly well spoken, not slurring. I took a leap of faith and offered him a ride over to the shelter. He told me he owed them for a night and they wouldn't let him in until he paid up his bill, so when we got there I gave him a twenty. After I gave him the money he turned to me and asked, "Do you read the Bible?" I was caught off guard. I was raised in a Baptist church and was currently teaching Sunday School. I stammered, "Uh, yeah!" He looked dead into my eyes and said, "Matthew 25:40..." and proceeded to quote the verse, in full and perfectly, to the stunned Sunday School teacher. He shook my hand, got out of the car and literally bounded up the stairs and into the shelter.....

Sometimes things happen in mere seconds with total strangers that haunt you for a lifetime. In the City of Angels, in that young woman's eyes, in just a flash of time, I saw desperation, embarrassment, humiliation and gratitude. I reached out with the fistful of coins and her hands were trembling so badly from the cold and rain that she dropped probably a third of them, but she still gave an embarrassed smile and said through chattering teeth, "Oh, THANK you!" As we were rolling I called out good luck to her.

"Out of work, out of my head,
out of self-respect, I'm outta bread,
I'm under-loved, I'm under-fed,
I wanna go home...."

I wish we had done more. I wish we had stopped, traffic be damned, and taken the time to try and help her out of her mess. But we didn't. No, I was driving. I didn't. And I have the image of her trembling hands dropping the coins burned into my brain forever.

I hope if she had LA dreams they finally came true. If not, I hope she made it home safely without having to compromise herself. I hope she got to the people who love her and they took her in and didn't judge. I hope for all of us that we don't punish the truly needy because of the frauds. I hope that we all will remember that when we give a cup of water it is in the Master's Name.

Matthew 25:35-39
For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?"


Then came the verse the man quoted me, Matthew 25:40;

"The King will reply,'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me.'"