A Place Worth Staying Forever

One of our younger guests came in the other day and presented me a list.  He had a very serious look on his face, as if this list he was handing me was a life or death matter.  He gave me time to examine the list and then with a more excited tone he asked me, "Mr. Mark, do we go to any of these churches?"

As I looked over the list, I noticed that he had written down several of his classmates' names and beside them he had made notes about where each classmate went to church.  There were several churches listed, three of which serve as Family Promise Host churches.

"Yes," I said with a smile, "there are three churches on this list that host for Family Promise."

"Great!" he said jumping up and down, "which one will we go to next?  I can't wait to see my friends at church!"

On another occasion, this same young boy was sitting on the couch next to his mother and upon discussing holiday plans he said, "Mom, I hope we can stay in Family Promise forever."  Quite taken aback, his mother replied: "Forever?!  Oh, I hope not!  I want to be in our own place by Christmas!"

"But mom," the boy replied, "they are so nice here!"

It is often interesting to view life and institutions through the eyes of a child.  This particular child has had his share of life challenges, few of them his own making.  In his eyes, Family Promise and the congregations that partner with us are places where friends can be found and people can be trusted--a place worth staying forever.

I am so proud to be a part of an organization that gives children hope for the future, that teaches them there are people who care; there are people who can be trusted.  For some children, their upbringing teaches them a perception of the world that suggests no one can be trusted, and that the world is full of people who do not care about them or their future.  Once those children become adults, it is so much harder to change their perspective; but, if you can give them even a glimmer of alternatives to the circumstances in which they live, it stays with them a long time--it becomes a touchstone of sorts--something they can look back on and remember.  How different would your life be if you grew up believing safe places and trustworthy people simply didn't exist?

The Day I almost Cut My Nose Off

I had no idea when Friday October 15 started I would wind up in the Emergency Room.  I knew it would be a busy day.  A group of Army Reservists from our local unit here in Anderson were headed to the Day Center to help underbrush our back fence line.  They did an excellent job.  By now you are probably thinking my injury must have come from some chain saw accident, or maybe a limb falling on my head, or perhaps I tried to pick my nose with a pair of hedge trimmers.  All of those would be fairly expected answers--but of course life is much more comical than that.

 Ryan Smith, our Guest Advocate here at Family Promise was helping me pick up our Network trailer so we could move some furniture that was graciously donated by Anderson University.  Since we had so many strong, capable Reservists on location, we decided it was the perfect time to move this furniture.  Now you might be thinking maybe somehow the trailer door hit me in the face, or maybe some large piece of furniture I was lifting popped me as I picked it up.  You would be wrong again.

Arriving at the Day Center with our first big trailer load of furniture, I stepped into the garage to make room for our massive furniture hall (50 dressers, over 100 place servings donated by Amark--massive is not an overstatement).  Several wood slats and a bed rail were standing up in a corner and a few had fallen down to the floor--conspicuously in the way.  I bent down to stack them back in the corner and before I knew it BAM!  here came a very heavy antique bed rail with a metal hook on the end right for my nose.  Ouch!

Before I could react I began to see drops of blood on the floor.  I lifted my hand from my nose--full of blood.  I went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, wiped the blood from my nose and looked in the mirror.  I looked somewhat--no--I looked EXACTLY like Jack Nicholson after his knife fight in the move Chinatown.  I walked out of the bathroom, and not wanting to panic our guests, asked Ryan to take a look. 

"Uh, yeah, that's gonna need stitches," he said with this strange mix of "what in the world happened to you" and "boy are you clutsy" look on his face.  So, Charmian (our van driver) loaded me into our van and drove toward the Emergency Room.  This is where it gets interesting.

As we rode down Greenville Street and turned onto Fant my mind began to race: "who will take care of overseeing the furniture move?  How will the Reservists know what to cut and how far to trim everything back?  Who will oversee the guests while I am gone?  How are the Reservists going to get their Chik-fil-A lunches if I don't go and pick them up?"  My mind continued to race as I held the bloody rag on my nose.

If you have not yet had an experience in the Anderson Hospital's ER--you should try it--just not on weekends, late evenings, or during the day.  Like many things in Anderson, the speed and quality of your service depends on your DNA and on your circle of friends.  Luckily, Charmian knew someone who happened to be working at the time so I got in quickly.  Then I proceeded to lay on a gurney for approximately 30 minutes, which was more than enough time to continue my mental tirade.

As my mind continued to construct doomsday scenarios about my absence from the Day Center, a quiet thought began to whisper in my mind: "do you really think the world will stop turning without you?"  At first I ignored the whisper knowing that there was just no possible way this Friday, October 15 could go on at the Day Center without me personally there holding it all together.

Imagine my surprise when Ryan swung by over four hours later and picked me and my newly stitched nose up outside the ER--and no one was hurt, no trees had crashed down on the Day Center, no fingers or appendages had been hacked off in a blatant disregard for safety, and catastrophe (so far as I could tell) had not destroyed the day.  When we pulled into the driveway, all 50 dressers, along with several other loads of furniture were tightly and neatly stacked in the garage.  It was as if everything had gone exactly according to plan and I wasn't even there to execute it.

To this day Ryan is convinced my wound was self-inflicted--the only way I knew I wouldn't have to move furniture and yard debris all day.  I, on the other hand, am a bit disappointed that my absence was essentially unnoticed and everything ran just fine without me.  Of all the dangerous things I have done in my life, I never expected something so trivial as a bed rail would bestow upon me the worst physical injury I have suffered to date--9 stitches in all.  I certainly never expected a day so packed with activity and "organizational challenge" to turn out so well without me.

I am convinced God is the ultimate Humorist.  Life has a way of being so painfully ironic at times you have no other choice but to laugh and go on.  I hate to ask for help.  I despise having to organize and plan just so a large group of people can show up and mess up all your planning.  I prefer to just do it myself--if you want it done right do it yourself. 

This reminds me of Abraham's attempts to fulfill God's promises his own way--first by questioning them away, then by using Sarah's maidservent Hagar in a haphazard attempt to make practical God's unbelievable claims.  Finally, after much drama and intrigue, the son is born--his name--"laughing boy."  But the story of "laughing boy" doesn't end there.  This same ironic twist at the end of Sarah and Abraham's life would be placed on an altar, ready to be sacrificed to God by Abraham at God's command.  But Abraham has learned not to work things out his own way this time, and his son is spared.  Thus an everlasting covenant is made between God and Abraham.

So God is teaching me that this Family Promise thing is bigger than me.  It has to be--that is the way God designed it.  We all have to do this thing together.  If you are unwilling to ask for help, watch out for those bed rails.  If you get a call from me asking for your help, you'll know I've decided I'd like to keep my nose on my face.

Grace & Peace,

Mark