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Poem - I Was Wn Alcoholic...And You Cared For Me.

I Was an Alcoholic, and You Cared For Me.
O. Kris Widmer

Idea: September 2, 2014  
Blog Published:  September 3, 2014
Recalling a helping incident

Jesus came by
our church,
and was here
for 5 whole hours.

Odd that it is
a Tuesday.

I recognize him immediately.
He can't fool me none -
in that get-up of
dirty boots,
grimy shorts and
filthy shirt,
It's Him alright.

I see the wounds
on His knuckles.
and a scar on his chest.

5 feet 6 inches
53 years of age
Red Hair (like mine) - unkempt
Blue Eyes (like mine) - bloodshot
Fair Skin and Freckles (like mine) - Sunburn.
Reading glasses

I thought He was safe
in heaven, But no,
he is very much
stuck here on our earth
in our area,
in a bad way.

He is living out of his white van, now.
The son of man has no place
to pillow his head.
And with a stuffing-falling out pillow
at that!

He lost nearly everything.
His first wife left him after four years.
His next wife left him after twenty.
His business has tanked.
He downsized from four vans to one -
            from ten workers to none.
His house was sold -
            from inlaid flooring to plywood flooring
He says He must to sell His boat
by the fifteenth.

It's all gone,
All on account of the drinking.

What's say Jesus didn't drink.
Well, He does now!

During these current last days...
He finds work where he can -
yard work mostly; Mow, Blow and Go!

Once, He was quite
the contractor.
Painting, Drywall,
Flooring (His specialty)
He shows me
the pictures on his I-pad;
$260,000 a year.

Now here he is
skin lesions,
slow movements,
sh-sh-schlurrrrrrred speech.

I offer him
non-perishable groceries
from the charity pantry.
He accepts.
He has a propane,
hibachi-style stove to cook on.

He hasn't shaved
for a few days.
He hasn't showered
in a few more.

I offer him
the use of His church's shower
and to do a few loads of laundry
in the appliances normally used
for communion towels
or potluck table clothes.
He accepts, again.

It is clear
nothing in His van
or on his person
is clean;
He searches for all the stray
shorts and
"Yes, the blanket.
Let's wash that too."

I wait for Him
to get it together.
Then, we go

Jesus and I
stand and talk,
walk and talk,
sit and talk -
Not in some green rose garden
on an ethereal dewy evening;
But rather, in the janitor's room
of the church basement.

We have plenty of time,
There are four loads
in that solitary washer,
that is slow to fill,
and the joy we share
as we tarry there
is pretty amazing.

He changes -
while I look the other way -
into the shorts and shirt
from the first load,
now dry.

Finally, His laundry is finished,
Then, He thoughtfully looks in my eyes
"Thanks for all you've done."
I wish Him God's blessing.
"Take care of yourself."

As he drives away,
I realize how much I learned
about Jesus today!

He doesn't wear
any underwear
and He never has.


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