Who exactly is Richard, anyway?

Over the past few days I've met quite a few new people, and picked up some new followers. I've gotten some interesting questions in that time , such as "Why do you have a Q in your name?" and "Where'd your hair go?", both of which will be covered in a later post titled "15 things about me you don't give a rip about." I've been asked several times, though, about Richard and Goofy, and why we're trying so hard to help them.

In November of 2009, Amy and I decided that, instead of arguing which side of the family we were going to spend Thanksgiving with, we were going to feed people. We started small, and the project quickly gained momentum. We had planned on maybe 50 people - we wound up feeding close to 200.

This was a Facebook note I wrote the next day. It pretty much explains the whole thing.

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So, it's a little over 30 hours later, and I am still trying to process everything that transpired yesterday. I'll just give some of the highlights.

I am NOT a morning person. So, when I crawled into bed at 1:30 the night before, knowing my alarm was set to go off in less than 5 hours, I was dreading it a bit. I woke up 10 minutes before my alarm went off, with an energy I don't know that I have ever felt.

I left the house at 8AM to get the first load of food. On the way back, I figured we would have 4, maybe 5 volunteers. I pulled up in front of my house, and there was every firefighter from Station No. 3, as well as about 20 people i had never seen. Nobody saw it, but I cried before I got out of the car. There was this overwhelming feeling of, "Wow. We actually did it. It's really happening."

I heard some amazing stories yesterday - and not just from the people that we were serving. I met a couple who drove 50 miles to, quite literally, give the coats off their backs. I met a man who had lost two sisters to cancer in the past year. I met a lady who had been unemployed for two years, and had just gotten her first disability check. I met a 16 year old astronomy fanatic who was one of the smartest kids I have ever met. I met a 12 year old girl who is a walking bundle of joy. I met a single mom who wanted to help so desperately, she used her food stamps to buy us supplies - and then stayed for 3 hours. I met a lady who used to be a drug dealer and an atheist - and now is involved in prison ministry. I met a couple that wanted to serve others so badly that they literally drove around Evansville and stumbled upon us. I met a single mom who found out about the outreach less than 12 hours before - and was the first one there to help set up.

Those were just the volunteers. And then, there was Richard.

Richard, along with his brother Richard (aka Goofy) (seriously) were some of the last two through the line. Before he even got to the mashed potatoes, Richard started crying. He was crying so hard, my wife and her mom sat down and talked to him. He asked why were doing this, and Amy told him, "Because Jesus loves you." He said, "Really?"

Richard is homeless, and lives under a bridge. Richard threw away his beer can as he walked up. Richard was drunk, and had been for a long time. Richard smelled of day old beer and B.O. As he cried, tears and snot ran down his filthy, matted beard. If I had seen Richard on a street corner before yesterday, I would have locked my car door quickly.

But, standing in the freezing cold, we managed to give him something he probably hadn't had in quite a while. We gave him hope. We gave him dignity. We gave him unconditional love, because Amy was right - Jesus does love him.

I was on my way to work tonight, and I saw Richard crossing the street. I turned around and drove by again, just to make sure it was him - and I smiled. I'm not sure if we changed his circumstances much - but for one day, we gave him one thing he probably hadn't had in quite a while.

His humanity.

I don't know if we changed his life. But I know that he changed ours. That image of him crying because he was so thankful that somebody cared enough to do all of this - that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Because no matter how much we did, he is still sleeping under a bridge.

That means our work isn't done. It's only just started.

Leftover Soup

Sitting down tonight around 7, we had our entire night planned out. We had had dinner with a friend, the Cubs were on TV, Amy had homework, and we were planning on a long night of doing absolutely nothing.

God had slightly different plans for us. Did he ever.

Around 715, there was a soft knock on the door. We looked out to see Richard, aka Goofy, our homeless friend we had taken to lunch on Saturday. He had brought with him Richard C, who we knew from our first outreach. Goofy said they were very sorry, but they hadn't eaten today, and they wondered if we had any cans of soup or anything.

Our hearts sank a bit. First of all, it was 715 in the evening, and these guys hadn't eaten today. At all. That's just wrong. Second, we had just had dinner and weren't planning on being home this week, so the cupboards were pretty bare. We had made vegetable soup out of leftovers a few nights ago because we didn't feel much like cooking, but that was - hey, wait a minute. We had homemade vegetable soup.

To most people, vegetable soup is on the same level as oatmeal. (I have never once, in my entire life, heard anyone exclaim, "Yay!! Oatmeal!!" Most people, when presented with a bowl of oatmeal, will make a groaning noise and say, "Oh. Yay. Oatmeal.") You'll eat it when it's there - but chances are, you'd much rather have something else. But when we mentioned homemade vegetable soup to these guys, their eyes lit up.

So, we had a picnic. We reheated the soup, made them a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, and sat outside with them while they ate. (As an aside, my wife has burned every grilled cheese she has ever made in her life - except these two. They were picture-quality sandwiches.) Richard C has a broken neck from a nasty fall he took a while back. Goofy has esophageal cancer. Both of them own little more than the backpacks them had with them. But, for a few minutes tonight, none of that mattered.

We were four people, sharing a meal, laughing, and talking. At one point, Amy was cleaning a wound on Richard C's head with tea tree oil. Tea tree oil is pretty pungent, and she said, "Now, this stuff doesn't smell the best." Goofy grinned and said, "When you live by a creekbed, you learn to ignore smells. That stuff is nothing."

We've never reached down to them - we've reached out to them. Richard C told me he could probably get on disability - but that he'd much rather work. He's looking forward to getting back to work as soon as his neck heals. They have been in some bad situations in their lives. So have I. We've never once pitied them. They don't want people to feel sorry for them. They just want people to treat them the way they were treated tonight. Like they matter. Like somebody cares.

Like they're human.

Sometimes, all it takes is a bowl of leftover soup.