a surrender - 48

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

Soon after, I took a few weeks away. Some friends at the community where Heather and I met had asked if I’d be willing to teach some computer skills to the man I used to care for. It seemed like a good time to take a break, so I was glad to do it.

When I came back, I happened to see a newsletter on a cluttered desk. It was about a retreat house for poor people. A married couple had worked in a house like ours for many years, then moved out to the country and started a retreat house. They invited people from shelters and other ministries to come for weekend spiritual retreats. For free. They even paid their transportation costs. It sounded very interesting to me, so I contacted them. They were looking for volunteers, and suggested we get more familiar with the spiritual approach of 12-step programs (like Al-Anon), and keep in touch with them.

That made me feel hopeful. But then I also happened to hear that Richard was in jail. And the woman that Heather had taken to the motel was homeless again, and was showing up at our house sometimes, loudly demanding things. James had been asked to stop camping out in the back yard. His frequent drinking and drug use was attracting other users. It felt overwhelming.

Then, about a week later, Richard showed up after dark and asked for me. He said he was depressed again, needing to talk to someone. He showed me his left wrist. It was mostly healed, but there were jagged gouges in the flesh, and metal staples that had been used to close the wound. I sat with him for a few minutes, heard that this had been his thirteenth suicide attempt, and suddenly felt that I was in way over my head. I listened to him a bit more. I mentioned my Al-Anon experience and asked him if he’d considered a group like that. Then I helped him call a local pastor he knew (who wasn’t home) and the local suicide-prevention crisis line. That call didn’t seem to go very well. After talking a while he grew frustrated and hung up, storming off. I couldn’t stop him.

I prayed for him that night. I wished I had done better. I wished I had more to offer him. But I felt like I had nothing left. Whatever I had to give had always been too little, and now even that was gone.

Continued...