Poverty and Service, Part 2

"I see one-third of a nation ill-housed, ill-clad, ill-nourished." ::: FDR::: Second Inaugural Address, January 20, 1937

Hartley and Lee

When I was growing up I'd often spend a few days at a time with my grandpa and grandma on my mom's side. I was always closer to them than my other grandparents and my grandpa and I had a bond that was very special to me.

Grandpa and Grandma had a lot of hobbies from collecting carnival glass and square dancing to collecting antiques. I admit that I did not inheirit a love for any of these things..well, except the square dancing..but during my times with them I'd find myself at shows, in antique shops--you know, those run down barn looking buildings on the side of random highways that most of us simply drive by. And in my opinion we should drive by them.

Somewhere along the line they met this skinny old man names Hartley. He owned a lot of crap, er antiques and would give some to my grandparents. I think they also bought some from him but along the way they became friends with him. I think the best way to describe him would be to picture David Crowder minus the gotee and Beaker hair. This dude was that skinny, with funky posture and wee beedie eyes and just plain frail. I mean I think you could hurt him simply by coughing on him. He drove an incredible old Buick about 2/3 the size of the Titanic which only added to his mystique in my young eyes. Hartley was a kind old man, very soft spoken and always looking around with those old silver cat eye rimmed glasses.

Many times when I'd be at grandpa and grandmas, Hartley would show up for a visit. Often he had his friend Lee with him. Lee was a dude you could tell had a rough side to him. He would usually show up reaking, no REAKING of alchohol. As I got older I learned more about Lee, I'm not sure if my family wanted me to be protected from him or if I just asked questions. Turns out Lee was a drunk, a homeless guy and at least a mild drug addict. Somewhere along the line he and Hartley struck up a conversation which turned into a friendship. Lee would show up on Hartleys doorstep and stay with him for a week or two, then randomly disappear for weeks on end. Usually his departure coincided with the disappearance of at least cash and sometimes some item of value from Hartley's house.

People where Hartley lived knew that he and Lee were friends and so they'd usually see Lee cashed out in some alley or doorway around the neighborhood and would let Hartley know and he'd go find him, either wake him or simply muster whatever muscles he had and carry him back to his house where he'd recoup, sober up, get warm and well fed and then steal away with more money and valuables to start the whole process over again.

At times my grandpa and I would be out on the town at hardware shops looking for just the right part and we'd swing by Hartley's. Grandpa never let me go in the building with him. I always sat in the car while he'd disappear for 15-20 minutes and return saying little to nothing and we'd head home. Later in life I found out grandpa would swing by to give Hartley a few dollars. Hartley was poor as poor could be, his home was in an old brick building full of apartments and the tenants in there were probably quite colorful. When I look back I think grandpa and grandma didn't really care about the antiques, they wanted to take care of Hartley and Lee. They'd hire them to do odd jobs around their place and I'm sure Lee took his share of stuff from my family which financed nice evenings on the town.

When I reflect on those early days a couple things pop to mind. First my grandpa and grandma would never be classified as rich, nor even well off. They had money to pay their bills, to feed their family and usually slip a few dollars in the pocket of their favorite grandchild :) But what I took away from them was their generosity with what they had. My grandpa was often too generous with him money which I think is a terrific flaw for one to have.

I'm also struck by their willingness to be put in unsafe situations. Hartley or at least Lee was bad news. He was going nowhere but down, there was little hope of him breaking free of his addictions and yet grandpa and grandma (at the risk of sounding cliche) talked to them about their faith all the time. I remember numerous times when they'd invite them to church only to hear a myriad of excuses why they couldn't make it.

I got to thinking the other day what it would have been like if those guys had one day shown up for church. I for one would have been humiliated to have been associated with them. Them in their dissheveled clothes, reaking of alchohol and not knowing any of the etiquite of church. My grandparents old, conservative Baptist church would have freaked.out.

But grandpa and grandma didn't care. They shared and prayed and gave and talked and hoped.

But what really gets me is Hartley. I mean, what was in it for him? This dude wasn't a professing Christian, he had no agenda of evangelism and Lee definately wasn't holding up his end of the bargain. But Hartley gave and gave. And what at times hacks me off is that Lee got a better treatment from Hartley that from the church. I sometimes wonder if g and g simply were kind to him for the churches sake. Like they were trying to keep it even with secular society because otherwise it would be painfully obvious who really cared for the deadbeat drunk with no future.

On my drive in to church each morning in Colorado I had to drive under I-25. One morning I happened to look up wondering if anyone ever slept under that overpass and almost let out a sound when I actually saw a cold, gray body arise from a nights rest and stretch his arms. For the next week I saw that same body arise and I am happy to announce I once even wondered what I could do to help him. I never did anything.

Colorado is notorious for almost every off ramp having at least one "beggar" waiting at the stop light. It seems the most common response from drivers by is to suddenly find an irresitable interest in the stereo, thus causing them to lean over and do so, fiddling with the station until the light turns green. At least that's my favorite way to ignore them.

Our senior pastor in Colorado had a bad reputation. Turns out he was much to generous with his money. In staff meetings they'd recount stories of times someone would approach him with a benevolent need and he'd open up his wallet and give them $20, $50 and sometimes more. We'd sit around our conference room table and shake our heads. Our business guy would tell him the church could reimburse him for that and he'd kindly decline. His wife would smile and give that "what are you going to do" look. We'd all look at him like he was crazy. Not so much because we couldn't figure out why he always carried so much cash (or how we could get our hands on some) but more because deep down at least I knew that if I had that money in my pocket some bum or beggar would have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.

"They need a hand; they get the finger." ::: Anonymous

"He who oppresses a poor man insults his maker; but he who is kind to the needy honors him." ::: Proverbs 14:31