Underneath

He doesn’t have all his teeth and it’s difficult to understand him when he talks. He’s always clean, but unkempt. Wrinkled skin and shaggy hair frame his hearty smile. Chatty and friendly, his outward appearance belies the fullness of his human worth, his heart, his intelligence. Like so many Terry’s.

His story is so much deeper, more complex and heartbreaking. I described here, but deleted it because it bothered me so much. Maybe because it paints him one-dimensionally, as if all there is to him is his poverty. Maybe it makes his difficulties too public. Maybe it’s just not my story to tell. It’s his.

He’s truly poor. Bankrupt. Can’t work due to his health and Social Security doesn’t pay all that well. Medicine eats up almost every cent. The trailer he calls home is falling apart and they have to move, but his wife doesn’t want to leave, for who knows why. It’s odd the things we cling to sometimes.

I want to help him, but I’m not sure how. A gift of money might help, but then what? The hole is so deep, it seems inescapable. How do you help the seemingly helpless?

The only answer I’ve come to is simply to get to know him as best I can. As small as it seems, friendship may be an even greater need to him than clothing, food, or money. So I listen. I ask questions. I want to know this man so that I can care for him as a friend and not just a mercy project.

In a way, it costs me much more than only writing a check. Takes more time, more effort. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s more rewarding. I’m not just meeting a need, I’m meeting a real human being.