Mealtime Mercies

By Mike Musgrove

Recently, I bumped into Harold. I was excited to see him, as I had missed him during these times of social isolation. He was heading to the bottle depot with a baby stroller loaded with bottles. I complimented him on his haul but on this morning, he was in no mood to receive my praise. He didn’t share the joy of our reunion. 

 “I have been meaning to talk to you.” This was followed by a list of complaints about the shelter he was staying in. I had heard it all before but there are difficulties associated with shelter life that some of you may not know about. You have schedules imposed on you, your belongings get lost or stolen, you don’t get to choose what you will eat, the person next to you snores or coughs through the night, angry guests may shout at you for no reason and the list goes on. For most, this is difficult and for Harold, who lives with heightened sensitivities, it can be excruciating.  

As he listed the complaints, I started to smile remembering our first coherent conversation. I say “coherent” because, until the moment we had this notable conversation, our interactions went something like this, 

 “There are 37 dead horses in Delta,” he yelled at me as he entered the mission for lunch.  When I tried to understand, he just shouted expletives at me and kept walking  

 Or 

 “Let me tell you. You don’t know what you’re doing. This whole place is going to blow up,” he yelled at me as he held up the lunch line. The other guests were yelling at him to get moving and he again did not elaborate and mumbled under his breath. Within seconds he turned and was getting his lunch. 

This all changed one day when I sat down with our guests for lunch. Beside me was a wet coat hanging from a chair. It was a tattered and rust coloured coat that I immediately recognized as Harold’s. I desperately wanted to get up and run to another table, but I did not want to risk offending the guests I was sitting with. So, I sat…and waited. Harold showed up with a loaded plate, looked at me and grumbled his disgust with a profanity just loudly enough to be heard. 

 About a minute after he sat down, he stared at me then started laughing. “You ever watch Family Guy?” 

 “What?” I replied, not expecting an answer. 

 “You have his chin. It looks like testicles.” His laughter increased as he shared his description of my chin with the table. Within moments the table of guests stopped eating and focused their eyes on my chin, while I looked back at them. Some were really focused trying to get a good look. I tilted my head back a bit so they could develop their own opinion. Soon we all joined Harold and burst into laughter.  

 After the laughing subsided and everyone returned to their food, I turned to Harold and quietly asked, “Where are you from?” 

 He smiled and told me his story. 

Now, on the street listening to him complain, he saw the smile sweep across my face. He knew I wasn’t listening. Angered he said, “What?” 

 “Remember when we first really talked to each other?” He looked at me blankly. “My chin.” I added. We both burst into laughter.  

 I told him I had to get going and he said he did too. As he walked away, he said, just loudly enough for me to hear, “It really does…” and he laughed some more. 

I know that this is not a typical Christmas story but in the Bible, Paul describes Christ’s coming to earth this way: 

 Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever."  

1 Timothy 1:15-17 

 I share this story knowing that many of you will never look at me the same way again. My flaws and my own sin extend well beyond my chin, but in that moment my chin became a catalyst for Harold’s change. Christ came so He could share mercy and show his incredible patience with me, our guests, our staff, and you. Not just so you might live, but as an example for all around you who might one day share in that mercy.  

 This Christmas I hope we can all remember to extend to others the same mercy and patience that the baby born in Bethlehem extended to us.  If He can use a chin to build a bridge, imagine how much he can do as His mercy and patience shine through us. 

 Have a wonderful Christmas. God Bless.