Last night Tim and I took a man to Mannington because he did not have a ride there. It is his home. He was in Fairmont all day shopping. He asked for a Bible, and Tim had one laying in the backseat of the car, along with an “Upper Room” devotional magazine for him to read when he wanted. He knew both publications well. He picked up the Bible and began paging through the Psalms. As we traveled, he read beautifully about God being in a magnificent thunderstorm. The language itself was powerful and amazingly descriptive. His reading was perfect. Intonation and cadence joined to make this an experience I will never forget. So many people are intimidated about reading the Bible aloud. Maybe he couldn’t have done it as well in a public place. His voice was powerful, yet not loud. I could see lightning and rain as he read. I could hear thunder.
He told us a little about himself. “I’m really slow,” he said. “I can’t hold down a job because of that, so I’m on disability. I finally got my GED.” I told him that that was not my impression of him and that he seemed very intelligent to me. He did. “I go into Fairmont about once a month or so to do a little shopping or just to clear my head”, he said. “Sometimes I eat at McDonald’s then go down to the river and watch the boats or the ducks and geese swim. If it’s hot I go somewhere I can put my feet in the water and keep cool. It’s quiet and I need to reflect a lot. I drink coffee to stay awake all night so the police won’t arrest me for vagrancy. I like the solitude.”
“So what kind of pots did you buy today?” I asked him. “Are thy hand made for display or what?” He replied that he was going to plant roses in them. “I just love to grow things,“ he said. “I live with my dad. He used to travel around fixing sewing machines, but he doesn’t do that anymore. He’ll have supper waiting for me. I plant all kinds of flowers in our yard. Roses, tiger lilies, azaleas, peonies. It’s calming to be outside. It helps me be quiet and think. I have a cousin like me who’s slow. She can’t keep a job either.” He sounded resigned.
Every word that came out of his mouth was thoughtful and deliberate. His grammar was perfect. (Snob that I am, I always notice that first when I meet anyone. Anyone.) We took him to his house and let him out. “Very nice to meet you,” he said. “Yeah” Tim replied. “Come by the church anytime. Hope to see you again.” “Me, too!” I echoed. Tim turned the car around and we headed home. “Gentle soul” he said. “Yeah,” I agreed. “He’s not slow. He’s just too gentle for this world.”
How many other people are like that? How quick are we to judge them? Why do we think everybody has to be like us?
Rev. Dorcas L. Conrad
Highland Avenue UMCFairmont, WV
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