It is one of those mornings when I am running late even before the alarm goes off. The to-do list sitting next to my car keys serves as a reminder of all that has to happen today: errands, projects to complete, committee meetings, class plans, grading tasks, etc. It seems to physically take longer to get ready to meet the world.
As I pull out of the garage I am greeted with heavy rain and wind. I thought the meteorologist said it would just be cloudy. At the light on Fort Worth Drive, my entrance onto the highway, the wind blows a cardboard makeshift sign right past my window. Running after the sign in soaked jeans, a light jacket, and a cowboy hat is an older gentlemen. Fighting the wind, he holds on to the hat and grabs the sign. I watch as he returns to the very corner of the intersection where he lifts the sign to his chest: Just Trying to Get Home.
The light turns green, and only a few cars manage to make it through the intersection, leaving me closer to him. I can read the sign now. Under the initial phrase is his plan: “Oklahoma Bound.” He’s headed north and probably needs money. I look around my vehicle slightly jolted into reality. There’s a laptop computer, an umbrella in the back seat, a bottle of orange juice, my to-do list anchored under my purse. My heart beats faster. I look at the traffic light. Red. The wind outside makes a howling sound that makes me look up, wondering if the storm is worse than it sounds. As I see the man standing in the rain, I am suddenly reminded of my morning prayer: In all my tasks today, God, keep me focused on what is truly important.
I quickly go through my purse and grab my wallet, keeping my eyes on the traffic light. It’s not much, but it’s all I have. I open the window and immediately feel the rain and the wind. He must have been watching his surroundings, because he immediately runs toward my vehicle. “God bless you, ma’am. I’m just trying to get home to Oklahoma, to my brother’s place. Ain’t nothing left here, no job, no family. Just trying to get home. God bless you.”
He quickly moves away from my car and, as if on cue, the light turns green.
As I merge into the highway I cannot get this stranger out of my mind. What else am I supposed to do? A feeling of desperation takes over. I know this feeling. I focus on the wet road ahead and pray: “I don’t know what do, God. If You have an idea, please let me know.”
He lets me know.
The cell phone call is from my friends Debbie (a retired social worker) and Don (a retired cop). Now they spend time managing nonprofit food banks in the area. Debbie is calling to thank me for volunteering this past weekend. They are waiting out the rain at the moment and will soon head out to deliver some supplies to Oklahoma.
Oklahoma?
* * *
The end of a long day finds me at a local diner, sitting across from Debbie and Don, who are back from Oklahoma where they had taken the stranger on the corner of Fort Worth Drive home. His wife had recently died of cancer. Once he was laid off he had no reason to stay in Texas. He lived in a local shelter for a week working odd jobs, saving for a trip to Oklahoma. At the destination Debbie and Don met the man’s family and witnessed a heartbreaking reunion.
“He told us that you were the only person that morning who stopped for him,” says Debbie. “He wanted to send his Bible to you, and I told him to keep it for a rainy day!” She laughs and wipes away a tear. “He was so grateful. I just told him, ‘Listen, we’re just all Christians here . . .’” She begins to cry. “And we’re just trying, you know . . .”
I know.
We’re all just trying to get home.
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Dixil Rodríguez, a college professor and volunteer chaplain, lives in Texas. This article was published June 14, 2012.
