Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

The one whose walk is blameless,
    who does what is righteous,
    who speaks the truth from their heart;
whose tongue utters no slander,
    who does no wrong to a neighbor,
    and casts no slur on others;
who despises a vile person
    but honors those who fear the Lord;
who keeps an oath even when it hurts,
    and does not change their mind;
who lends money to the poor without interest;
    who does not accept a bribe against the innocent.
Whoever does these things
    will never be shaken.

• Psalm 15:2-5

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead.  A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

• Luke 10:30-37

When you make a loan of any kind to your neighbor, do not go into their house to get what is offered to you as a pledge. Stay outside and let the neighbor to whom you are making the loan bring the pledge out to you. If the neighbor is poor, do not go to sleep with their pledge in your possession. Return their cloak by sunset so that your neighbor may sleep in it. Then they will thank you, and it will be regarded as a righteous act in the sight of the Lord your God.

• Deuteronomy 24:10-13

Boilerplate

I’m Harold Dykstra.  I’m retired, but I go to food bank distributions all over Tracy and talk to people that need someone who will listen to their story.  My time is well spent.  A police lieutenant suggested that I write down the conversations that I had with an angel.  I did not know she was an angel at the time.  The angel, for a little over a year, indwelled a life-sized posable action figure my children bought me, so that I would not be perceived as travelling alone.  And in a way, she was training me for what I do while talking to the needy.  She probed my heart to find out what I believed and how I express love for others.  She changed my life.

In her leaving, she said someone would come.  I had thought that was Jesus, in His second coming, but a new Babs, a little older, the model for the posable action figure arrived.  While I had no desire to start over with romance, Morrie helped her move in, thinking she was the other Babs who had returned.

This Week’s Question

Last week, Babs lamented that the world was such a terrible place, and we found safety and security in God.

This week, she was late coming home to supper, and instead of having supper with me and having a Bible study, she lived out a Bible study.

This is all in third person.  I only became a part of it near the end.

Babs was enjoying the warm weather.  During Spring in the big city of Tracy, you never know what you are going to get as far as weather is concerned.  But this day, the sun was shining; the breeze was light; and for someone who was used to the cold weather, you didn’t need a coat.  Babs had only moved here in December.  Her blood was still a bit thin from those years in California and Arizona.  She had one of her old-style dresses, but she wrapped a sweater over her shoulders.

As she walked a little farther than usual, she saw a young boy riding his bicycle.  As he got closer, his front wheel got caught in a gap between the curbing and the asphalt pavement.  The boy fell off his bike.  He was softly crying.

Babs was next to him in no time at all.  She got down on her knees.  Babs asked, “Are you alright?”

The boy showed her his elbow that was badly scraped.  He said his knee hurt too.

Babs pulled bandages from her purse.  She had some antiseptic wipes in her purse and adhesive bandages.

The boy asked, “Why do you have wipes and bandages in your purse?”

Babs scrunched her nose and smiled, “You fell from your bike, but I can fall down just walking.  I come prepared.”

The boy laughed at that.

Babs asked, “And what is your name?”

The boy said, “Joe, Joe Painter.  I live in the blue house over there.”  He pointed to a blue house.  “What’s your name?”

Babs said, “Babs.”

Joe looked confused, “What kind of a name is Babs?”

Babs laughed, “I’m sorry.  You gave me your whole name.  My name is Barbara Bounty, and sometimes people who are Barbara shorten their name to Babs.  Now, we got the introductions right.  I think you can walk.  You will probably need to tell your Mom so she can check your wounds.  A wipe is not as good as cold running water.”

Joe looked away, “I don’t have a Mom.  It’s just me and Dad.  He’s off doing lawncare work, and I am by myself.”

Babs said, “Oh, dear.  Joe, has your Mom been gone a long time?”

Joe sniffled, “Yeah.  A couple of years.  She died of cancer.”

Babs wrapped her arms around Joe.  “I am so sorry.”

Joe asked, “Would you be interested in being my Mom?”

Babs giggled, “Joe, I have honorary grandchildren older than you are, but if you need someone to give you a hug, I just live a few blocks away.  In fact, I live upstairs, and Harold Dykstra lives downstairs.  We were thinking of walking right by here tomorrow to go to church. That is, we will if the weather is still nice.  We suggested that at Sunday school last Sunday and Captain Hart and Gisele said they would drive us home if the weather changed.  It can be sunny, but then it might be raining two hours later.  If you want, we can come by afterwards to check up on you.  But wait, if your Dad is out doing lawncare, what do you do for lunch?”

Joe shrugged, “I eat some peanut butter and crackers.  I might fix a cheese sandwich.  I can find something.  If I don’t, I just drink water until Dad gets home.”

Babs asked, “You go hungry all day?”

Joe shrugged, “School days, I get a free breakfast and lunch at school.  Sometimes, we don’t have food for supper.  I get used to feeling hungry, but I’m okay.  Dad is not a beggar.  He works hard and provides, but during the winter months, the lawncare company doesn’t have work for him.  He might get some part-time work during the holidays, but I was sick this year.  I had a stomach bug, and by the time I was starting to get better, I got the flu.  We spent a lot of what Dad saved up on medicines for me.  This bike was my only present this year.”

Babs sized up the bike.  It looked a lot older than a few months.  It was probably secondhand.  She sat there with Joe and hugged him for a while.

Then she thought of something.  “Joe, there is a chicken restaurant across the street from our church.  Would you like some chicken tenders for lunch?”

Joe said, “Dad says to not take handouts.  We can work for our meals.”

Babs scrunched her nose again, “Wait!  You just said that you were adopting me as your honorary grandmother, just when you need a hug.  That makes us family, so I am going to take you to lunch.  And you are earning your lunch because you are protecting your Grandma.”

Joe giggled at that, but he got up and took a few steps.  He nodded.  We walked his bike back to his house, and then we went to the restaurant.  He didn’t have a kid’s meal.  He went for a full-sized meal.  He ate all of it, and he ate Babs’ fries.  It was more than a young boy, who is always hungry, would normally eat.  He probably had not eaten supper, and this was his first meal today.  They talked about a lot of things.  Joe was doing okay in school, in second grade.

On the way back to his home, they checked out the bike.  There was nothing broken.

Babs said, “If you break your bike, Harold is an engineer.  He could probably fix it.”

Joe gave Babs a hug before she left.  “I love you, ornery Grandma.”  Babs could not help but laugh.  She could correct with “honorary” instead of “ornery” another day.

She pulled out her phone as she walked home.  She called Tim, the manager of the food bank at church.  “Tim, this is Babs, can you meet me at the church, that is if we still have enough for an extra box?”

Tim said that he would be delighted to do so.

Babs walked in the door and announced that she would borrow the car and be back in less than an hour.

They gathered the box of food, and Babs told him about her experience on her walk earlier in the afternoon.  Tim suggested that since Joe’s father did not accept charity, Babs should get me to go along with her.

When she got back home, she told me the entire story.  I agreed with Tim.  She needed backup if Joe’s father got belligerent.

When we arrived at their blue house, there was a very old pickup in the driveway.

We knocked on the door, and a man in a dark green uniform answered the door.  “May I help you?”

Babs said, “I met Joe earlier this afternoon and I wanted to see if he was alright.  I also brought some food from the food bank.”

Mr. Painter huffed, “Joe told me everything.  We can’t take your charity.  I’ll pay you back for the lunch, but it will be in a couple of weeks.  I work for a lawncare service, and they haven’t paid me yet this year.”

Babs laughed, “No, you keep that money when it arrives.  I am sure you have bills to pay.  Besides, Joe adopted me as his honorary grandmother.  You don’t pay Grandma back for a meal.  You just say, ‘Thank you.’”

Mr. Painter said, “Thank you, then.  I am glad that Joe found someone that was trustworthy.  There are people who might do Joe harm.  I just can’t afford to put food on the table some of the time.  No way could I afford a babysitter.  Joe is responsible, but I am glad he met you instead of someone else when he fell today.”

Babs smiled, “I was glad that I was there, and I could help.  Harold has a box of food that we would like to leave with you.  We did not buy it.  It comes from the church’s food bank.  I have the forms in case you want to sign up.  There is one distribution each month, but I am afraid that this month’s distribution was this morning.  And I am Barbara Bounty, but you can call me Babs.  And this is my landlord, Harold Dykstra.  You may see us walk by here going to church tomorrow.”

Joe walked up. “And this is my Dad, Grandma Babs.  His name is Anthony Painter.”

Anthony said, “I answer to Tony also.  Normally, I would be a little rude and tell you to take your charity and hit the road, but something says that little Joe would be angry with me.  My parents died four years ago, and we moved into their house here.  My wife was a nurse, and we were doing fine.  Then she got cancer, and she was gone in just a few months.  I am at my wit’s end and then Joe says he has a new grandmother.  Do you want to come in and sit down?”

We did so.  Babs quoted Psalm 15, and said we did things for our neighbors when they were willing to accept the help.  She likened Joe to the man who was beaten in the story of the Good Samaritan.

When Tony said that he would pay us back for our kindness, I suggested that he could be our lawncare guy if he wanted the extra pay.  Tony said that his lawn was lush because he did things the natural way.  He could not afford the fees that his boss charged.  And since his neighbors dropped off grass clippings and leaves, he had enough mulch for our yard.  But he insisted that he do something now to show good faith.

Babs was ready with Deuteronomy 24:10-13.  “Tony, there is no need to repay us at all.  Do not let your pride get in the way of a helping hand.  Besides, I’m Grandma.  Honorary, not ornery.”

Tony nodded and turned red, “Joe even said what he called you.  I was a bit confused about that.  Thank you for clarifying it.”

Then next morning, the weather was great.  When we passed by the blue house, Joe appeared at the front door.  “Can I go to church with you?”

We waved for him to join us.  After we hugged Joe, his father walked out.  “Do you mind if I join you?  I have not been to church since my wife died.  You helped Joe with a scraped knee and elbow.  Maybe I need to do some healing too.”

After we got home, that is after we went by the chicken restaurant again, I said, “Babs, I doubt if you are a Samaritan, but you did some good this weekend.”

She giggled, “I was at the right place at the right time.  But then again, every time I leave the house for my walk, I pray that I will be there for someone else, and this is the first time God answered my prayer.”

Credits

All these conversations remind me of my conversations with my wife.  We would talk about anything and everything.  And most of the time, it sounded like a discussion in a Sunday school class.

My wife was always seeing someone that needed help and giving a handout to them.  We did not stop at every panhandler, but we did our share.

And this was also in memory of a lady who saw me crash my bicycle in front of her house.  She cleaned me up and volunteered to take me home, but since I was a few years older than Joe, I put my broken bike over my good arm and walked home on my own.  A good neighbor is one who sees a need and then runs to the needy to help them with no questions asked.

Soli Deo Gloria.  Only to God be the Glory.