My Friend is Dying
I had a strange conversation with a regular at work tonight. He’s been coming in since the restaurant opened. He used to come in with his partner and they ordered the same drinks every time (a brandy manhattan and a gin martini) and generally the same food. Since his partner died two years ago he stopped drinking and started coming in for the community instead of the food. I know this because he only ever eats two bites before he’s finished. He is 77 years old and alone. I’m not trying to play this up more than it is. He has a sister in Arizona who cannot afford to fly here (he says even for his funeral) and he occasionally has a friend or two join him at the restaurant. But he was going to be alone on Christmas until an employee at the restaurant invited him to their house.
Anyway, tonight I asked him why he didn’t order his regular dessert and he said it was because he was feeling sick. “I’m loosing weight you know” he said. When I asked him about it he said that he was dying. “It’s a losing battle. My body is done and my time is short. I won’t be around much longer.” Fighting against awkwardness and finding it easy to ignore my duties as the manager that night I asked him what it felt like to know or think that your life is nearly done. “I”m OK with it, you can’t grow old and be a sissy! I’m ready to go because I have lived a full life and I’ve been everywhere I want to go. My only fear is that I will outlive my body. Nothing terrifies me more than losing my independence.” “Do you have someone to take care of you if that happens?” He said that he didn’t, that his sister lives far away and can barely afford her own life let alone his.
Somehow the conversation turned to Winston Churchill at this point. He recommended his favorite Churchill biography and I wrote down the title. He told me a story or two about Churchill and FDR, how for a longtime Churchill was the leader of the free world. I told him that I was taking an extended leave of absence from the restaurant and he said he’d miss me. I got his address and phone number and suggested that we find a way to talk when I’m done working.
He has ridden his motorcycle across the United States, he’s worked as a newspaper reporter, owned a publishing company in Hollywood, seen the death of his parter of 37 years, travled around the world multiple times, and now he prefers to watch TV and read books.
I think that I would fear losing my independence too if I was without community. I think that when you live in community you’ve already experienced what it’s like to lose your independence and it no longer seems quite as terrifying. I want my friend to live with my family, to not die alone. I probably should have said something about hope in the resurrection or something like that (I mean, I am a church planter) but I just listened instead.
Goodbye Marcell’s
Consider this a tribute, a goodbye to Marcell’s Hemp and Latte House. I spent a significant amount of time in their house-turned coffee shop as it became my unofficial office. It was through Marcell’s that I met a whole cloud of men and women with amazing stories, who had an amazing impact on my life, and who live in and represent my downtown neighborhood. It filled a gap in my neighborhood where there is no other place of gathering. People came to this shop to be with their neighborhood.
The coffee was mediocre, the management was poor at times (sorry), it randomly opened and closed due to red tape (among other things!)…but it was a place where you could meet and talk to those whom you belonged to.
Sadly Marcell’s is gone due to a fire last week. I do not yet know, though I am fairly certain that it is gone forever. I grieve for the neighborhood because there’s no hub for us to gather at. I grieve for the relationships that I have lost because we no longer have a place to be together. I grieve my loss of an “office”. And I grieve for those who lost jobs.
Someone come and pour some money into that place and build us another gathering place. If you make it into a knitting shop I will fight you. If you make it into a minute mart I will fight you. If it ends up a house I will fight you. Give us a place to gather please.
peace.
Who do you look like?
There’s a church planting couple here in the NW that came from a traditional church, had worked in established ministry for years, and felt “called” to work with people in downtown Portland. I do not know these people well so I cannot speak with much insight as to how their lives and hearts have changed over years of doing this ministry. But I can tell you that their appearance has changed. She has had dreads (and has since cut them off and started them again), they have many piercings, tattoos, and they dress the part too. It might be easy for us skeptical types to look at them and make jokes about how they’re trying to look cool or something of that nature. But concerning the way they look my wife heard the woman say that the two of them did not set out to look different and change their appearance. Instead, she said, the more time you spend with a people and the more you fall in love with a people the more you want to look like them and be like them.
As I processed this I remembered me and my other tall and skinny white friend who lived in Portugal together. We stood out. We looked different. We were loud when we road the bus. We wore t-shirts and baggy jeans. But by the time we left some things had changed. Without ever trying or even thinking about it we acted differently in public settings. We dressed differently (embarrassingly enough we began to wear tighter jeans). In many ways, small ways, we began to look more like the people we were with.
I’m intrigued by this idea in two ways.
- Are you loving the people around you to the extent that you might start looking like them?
- Is your Christian community living and loving in such a way that people who hang out with you are starting to look like you?
