this will take a while...

It's been a coon's age since I last posted, and here's why: I've been sleeping. For the first time in college, I've had a deep conversation with my friend, Mr. pillow before 10p.m. on a weekend. I guess that's what's necessary when you're show time at work on Saturday is 5:30a.m.!

For those of you who don't know...(like there are so many people out there who read these scribbles; enough strangers amongst the observer audience to warrant a presumptious preface like "for those of you who don't know"...whatever)...my probation officer has made it manditory for me to be employed, so the public transportation system in Abilene, Texas was the logical place to apply.

As a CityLink operator, I drive buses, vans, even the town trolley!

On to the point...most of my time at work is spent on the van service. Passengers for this service are often either physically or mentally handicapped, with certain diseases and disorders to varying degrees that, needless to say, make for a memorable on-the-job experience for yours truly.

Yesterday something penetrating happened.
I arrived at a house to pick up a lady who needed to be taken to dialysis for the day. I stopped at the curb of her house and exited the vehicle to open and lower the wheelchair lift because my driver's manifest indicated that this woman was wheelchair-bound. I knocked on the door and out came Carol. Carol was in bad shape. Carol was probably 60 years old and anywhere between 350 and 400 pounds. She, in an electric wheelchair, was almost fully reclined out of necessity and she was hooked up to an on-board respirator. She was wearing noticeably filthy clothes that emited a distinct odor. She was hooked up to a catheter with the necessary collection resevoir in plain view. I was unaware of her specific phyisical/mental disabilities, but let's just say they were obviously present.

As I maneuvered her chair onto the lift and prepared to send her up into the vehicle, our eyes met. With a subtle, burning look only possible from someone I had deemed beneath me, her eyes said, "Why do you think you're better? Why do you stand there, smile, pity, and feel good because you're 'helping someone less fortunate' ?" The look pierced me.

Her existance was so undignified; I was so uncomfortable. I don't want to be that way. I'm growing tired of being associated with the elite (if you have a computer and are reading this, don't think you are outside this classification). Henry Nouwen may have been on to something when he decided to surround himself permanently with "CityLink regulars."


Don't make "helping someone less fortunate" a service project, or even a career. Make it your reason for living. Maybe those less fortunate people are the "neighbors" Jesus was talking about.



attempting to become more undignified,
luke





p.s. i'm not on probation