thanksgiving eve

Wednesday night, Thanksgiving eve, dad and I were about to head to the store for turkey, green onions, and summat-rather.
My dad is a pastor, and we live in a parsonage located directly behind our church.
There was a knock on the door. Dad answered-- I was in the other room. I heard a loud, agitated voice (not my dad) and felt pretty alarmed. We live in a dangerous neighborhood, and my dad has received threatening calls in the past. The conversation was muffled from my position, so I quietly seated myself on top of our clothes dryer in an attempt to eavesdrop, all the while strategizing what I would do if our guest shot my dad.

I finally heard a few broken parts of conversation, as it was now being shouted: "SHUT THE DOOR IN MY FACE," "DESPERATE," "I KNOW THE LORD CARES," etc. I really couldn't put a lot together, I just knew this guy need help, but I was comforted by the mention of the Lord, so I relaxed. The voice faded, and I heard my dad say an indistinct prayer. Next thing I knew, there were footsteps in the kitchen headed right toward my "hiding spot," and then there was my dad with a stranger bumping right into me.

The stranger was a kind of scrawny, disheveled-looking black man. He was wearing a black stocking cap and a puffy black coat that seemed to be six sizes too big for his body. He was taken aback by my sudden presence, and said something to the effect of "woaw, I didn't know anybody was listening." My dad said, "this is my daughter, Anne, she's coming with us." Strong ebonics and slurring of words made it difficult to understand what he said, but the stranger introduced himself as Andre Williams, so we shook hands and declared our pleasure at meeting one another.

We all got in the van and headed off. I wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but I assumed that we were still going to the store to get groceries, and I surmised that we would be buying groceries for Andre as well. Andre talked a lot in the car; he told us that he'd been walking since noon that day, trying to find help (it was now 5:30pm, and about 30 degrees outside.) He told us that he had been to four or five churches, and none of them were willing to help. One of them said they wouldn't help because he wasn't from the same area. Another church was unable, and told him it was no use going to the other churches around because they didn't feel comfortable assisting people of his color. He voiced his frustration that they all turned Jesus from their doorsteps, hungry, while claiming they "loved the Lord," unwilling even to provide a ride home.

Andre had been holding a crumpled piece of paper that seemed to be a grocery list. As we entered Meijer, my dad said, "we have groceries to get as well, so you go find all those items on your list and meet up front when you are ready." We did just that. He got 4 grocery bags full... a turkey, a 2 liter of soda, stuffing, vegetables, and several other typical thanksgivingy things.

We got back in the van and headed to Flint to bring him back to "the place he was staying" (I noticed he didn't call it home.) It was about 20 minutes away by car. It was in the most worst part city according to my dad. On the way there, Andre occupied most of the conversation once again. He thanked my father profusely for helping. He said that he just kept praying and he knew somebody would help him. He apologized for shouting--he had just been so desperate, and being denied by churches--people who were supposed to "love the Lord"--had made him so frustrated. He said he really appreciated what were were doing, and Catherine would really appreciate it too.

My dad asked about his parents--they were both dead, asked about his siblings--they were all addicted to drugs, so he didn't associate with them. I'm not sure if he had a family of his own-- he kept referring to a Catherine, who I assume is a wife or a girlfriend. Also, I presume by the size of turkey he chose that he has children, but I am not certain. He asked for us to "keep praying for Andre Williams" because times were "rough" and he was "just trying to hang on," but he was "trusting in the Lord."

After we dropped him off at an ominous apartment complex and told us he loved us and that God would bless us, we headed home. I arrived at a home where I was warm, where I would be provided for without a doubt, where I can always find encouragement, where I will always be built up in God's name, where I love and am loved, a home that I, far too often, forget to thank God for profusely.