Carlos

Yesterday morning started off no different than most other days. Since I didn’t have a job for the day I figured I would head down to Starbucks after I completed my carpool obligation for the day. I sat in one of the comfy chairs with my cup of Pike Place Roast in my hand and began conversing with my friend Mike about crucial matters such as airline fees and hockey scores. A man, possibly homeless, had been sitting next to us and had fallen asleep for a few minutes. Little did I know that this man would end up changing my day.

About five or ten minutes into our conversation the man looked up toward us and began talking to us with an apology. “Excuse me for interrupting, but I heard you talking about God, and I’m… I’m… I’m just so hungry…” And he began to weep. He looked clean, he was freshly shaven, his clothing was in good shape; I wondered if he was homeless. I asked him his name; he said “Carlos”. I looked in my wallet and saw that I had three one dollar bills and a twenty. Mike (other Mike) had five ones, so between us we gave him eight bucks.

Carlos took the money, rather sheepishly. I asked him if he was looking for work; he said “Yes”. “I worked for a guy for three hours on Saturday…” Then he held out his left hand to us. “Look at my hand, I can hardly use it.” On the back of his hand, where his thumb connects to it, there was a disfigurement. “I used to be a barber…” He began to weep again. “For twenty six years I was a barber… now I can’t work.” I asked him if he lives in our area. He looked down at the ground and slowly shook his head; “I am homeless”. After asking him a few more questions I was pretty sure that Carlos was being truthful to us. My next thoughts were about what can I do for this guy? Or, what should I do for him? Eight bucks surely won’t change anything.

I have a friend, who is well connected with Set Free Ministries, but they usually work with guys coming off of drugs or out of jail out at their ranch, and Carlos didn’t seem to be that type. I told Carlos that I had a friend that worked with a ministry that helped out men and asked if that was something he would be interested in. His countenance changed 100 percent and he began to smile. “You would do something like that for me? Why would you do that?” My heart sank a little right then for Carlos… What caused this man to have so little self-worth? What has his life been like for the last three years, since his injury, to cause him to think that I was doing that I was doing such a “great” thing for him? Had nobody ever offered to help him?

I suggested that Carlos go over to BK and get something to eat while I contact my friend. I called Don O. and asked him if Set Free would be a fit for Carlos. Don said yes, that it would be a fit and that they would take him, but to ask Carlos to be sure that he wanted to do it. When Carlos returned he had not bought anything to eat. I asked him what was up. “Eight dollars… is a lot… I have to think about this… how I am going to use it… I could use it for two or three days…” I began to understand that if Carlos went to the store, he could buy bread, etc. and get much more mileage out of the eight bucks than if he bought one-dollar burgers. More importantly, I began to appreciate his dilemma even more. I asked him if he wanted me to take him to Set Free, he said “yes”.

Now, I’ve never done anything like this before. Once a guy came to my church, and told me that he wanted help getting off drugs. I called Don, handed the phone to the guy, and within 20 minutes the guy and Don left for the Ranch. This was different; I had been conversing with Carlos for over an hour. And Don could not pick him up! I was still a bit apprehensive about driving with this stranger (homeless stranger) by myself in my car. “Who can drive with me out there?” I thought. After calling every member of the staff at our church and three other potential guys and getting nowhere I decided that I would need to take him out myself. I called Don and told him that I was on my way. He said that he would call them and let them know I was coming.

As we got into the car and headed down the road he asked me again “why do you want to do this for me?” I answered, “Because you are important Carlos... You matter… And, you matter to the Lord.” We spoke about many things on our drive, about his brother dying a couple of years ago, about a sister who doesn’t want anything to do with him, and about his sixteen year old son who lives in San Francisco. When we got off the freeway he told me “I can’t do this.” I told him he could. “No, I can’t” he replied. “Well, we drove all the way out here; we might as well meet these people before we make a decision” (whew, quick thinking Mike). “I am scared”, I told him that I would be afraid too. “I feel sick”, “like butterflies?” I said. “Yeah.”

As we pulled into the church parking lot he expressed his apprehension once again. I asked two guys where I could find “Johnny”, and they pointed to him. Carlos had not yet opened the door to get out of the van. I walked over to the van and opened the door and said “Let’s go meet these people.” Carlos got out and we walked over and met Johnny. Johnny asked Carlos a few questions then said “We need to get you some rest, and then something to eat.” Carlos, looking at the ground, nodded. “You’re in the right place” Johnny told him; Carlos nodded. I shook Johnny’s hand and thanked him, turned toward Carlos, who stepped toward me and hugged me, and we said goodbye. I walked over to our van and headed back to Orange County.

When I arrived back in Brea it was already 2:30 pm. Four hours had passed since Carlos first mustered up the nerve to speak of his hunger to us. I had spent three dollars, and maybe ten bucks for gas, not really much of an investment. I was able to speak words of life to him; words saying that he mattered, that he is important, and that he can achieve the things he wants to-including seeing his son again. I hope that Carlos will find all the things he needs to get his life back on track. I hope that he finds a relationship with God. I am glad that I was in the right place at the right time.