by Don Childers
Walking into the kitchen, Bill fixed Jerry some dinner. Taking out the phone book, Bill looked up the number of the Second Street Mission. During his time at Central Avenue Bill had referred several transients to that mission. Located on Second Street just off the railroad tracks, the mission was in what most considered a less than desirable section of town. Salvador Ramirez and his wife Maria had run the mission for several decades. Salvador’s wavy white hair and tanned face gave him a distinguished look even though he was in his late seventies. The mission had been his dream. He had been born in San Antonio, Texas and educated as a teacher. He had taken a job in St. Louis and then after only a few years had come to Maysville. Maria had been born in Kansas City and had met Sal when he was in St. Louis. Sal gave up teaching and instead acted on a dream and passion of his. He started the mission.
After several years, the original mission moved from its first location to its present location on Second Street. The building that now housed the mission had originally been a department store. Now the first floor consisted of a large dining room that also served as a general-purpose room. Next to it was a professional kitchen donated by the local Kiwanis Club. Several side rooms functioned as offices, meeting rooms, and were used by volunteer counselors, physicians, and dentists who occasionally donated time to the mission. The second floor had been remodeled to house both individuals and families. Although it was not the best accommodations, it was warm and cozy. The third floor was used for storage. Many years ago a grant from an anonymous friend of the Mission had provided funds to remodel part of the third floor into a nice apartment for Sal and Maria. The Mission provided beds for homeless families and transients, a kitchen that served meals each day, and a spirit of love and welcome that Bill had seen infrequently in his life. He and other pastors had taken turns volunteering as spiritual counselors. However, because of his own problems and schedule, Bill had only been to the mission a few times.
Bill had also noted while he was at Central that Benny Lewis was especially hostile toward the mission. He wondered why, but then Benny was hostile toward just about everything. He did remember how Benny had continued to criticize the last pastor for spending too much time at the mission when he could have been building up Central. Although Central still provided some funds to the mission, Benny had been able to get the support reduced to minimal.
Bill dialed the number of the mission. Maria’s sweet voice filled the receiver.
“Maria, this is Bill Thompson, Reverend Bill Thompson. I don’t know if you remember me but I used to come down to the mission from time to time.”
Maria paused for a moment and then cheerfully said, “Reverend Bill, how nice to hear from you. I remember you. You were at Central Avenue, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was,” Bill said, and ended it there.
Maria continued, “Sal and I were just talking about you the other day.” There was just a hint of a Spanish accent in her words. “We were saying that what happened to you was so unfair. How are you doing?”
“Well, better today than yesterday,” Bill answered. Then he added, “Well, I know it has been a long time, but. . .” Bill hesitated and then continued, “Why I am calling is to ask you, are you serving a Thanksgiving meal this evening?”
“Well, actually we served our main meal at noon today. But there are leftovers that we have made into sandwiches and soup for the evening meal. Do you have someone who needs a meal?” Maria asked.
“Well, actually yes. I was wondering if you needed some help tonight serving dinner. I would like to join you and help out if I can.”
“That would be wonderful! We would love to have you come down here and help out. I make wonderful turkey soup and we still have some turkey for sandwiches and I have also used some of the turkey to make some enchiladas. Just come on down. When can we expect you?”
“Let me put on my coat and I will be there shortly. Thanks, Maria.”
“Well, thank you.”
Sal and Maria never asked questions. That was one of their true gifts. People arrived at the mission with all kinds of stories and most did not want to share their pasts. Over the years Sal and Maria had developed the ability to just accept people as they were and where they were.
Bill put on his coat, gathered his gloves, gave Jerry a pat on the head, and headed out. The Mission was actually not far from where they were now living. In truth, the mission was worlds apart from most of Maysville.
Maysville had a thriving business district, had several factories, and some very nice homes, especially west and north of the community. Yet, the old town, where the original town site had been, was run down. You could buy a cheap thrill, a lady for the night, or drown your sorrows in one of the many bars along First Avenue, East. The Second Street Mission was an oasis in a dry land. Its “Welcome All” neon light was a huge contrast to the buildings around it. The community and churches supported the mission, some because of commitment and others because of guilt. Most people knew that such a place as First and Second Street existed, but carefully avoided the area. In many ways the area could have been on another planet.
Bill had not driven down through the area for longer than he cared to remember. He had brought some youths down to the mission months before the wreath incident. But since being fired, he had all but forgotten places like the Mission. As he pulled up and parked, there was a familiar feeling to the place. Not only had he loved working in the course he had taken during seminary but over the years some of his best experiences had been when he had worked with the cast away people of life. During one church he had volunteered to work at the local Salvation Army in their prison halfway house program. Though the world of most of the “fellas” was so different from Bill’s, Bill had discovered that he had had a real talent for dealing with such persons. The men used to love it when Bill would ask them to define some slang term they had used. They would laugh and call him a “square” and then tell him that they appreciated that he never tried to relate to them by using their language or jargon. “You are just Bill,” they would say. “Square Bill, but we appreciate you.”
As Bill walked into the mission, music was playing and Christmas decorations were up. Sal saw him and rushed over extending his hand.
“Reverend Thompson, it is so good to see you.” Then Sal’s face changed and he looked at Bill and added, “I was so sorry to hear of what happened at your church. What have you been doing since then?”
Bill drew in a deep breath and said, “Not much, Sal, not much. Mostly feeling very sorry for myself. That is why I decided to come here tonight. It is time I do something for someone else.”
“Well, God bless you,” Sal said and Bill knew that would be the end of the questions. “You know where to go; Maria and some volunteers from Our Lady Immaculate are back in the kitchen serving. As you can see, we will be full tonight.”
Bill looked around the packed room. Non-matching tables that had been cast away from other churches were crowded into the dining hall. The place was buzzing with conversation that competed with the Christmas music coming out of the speakers. In one corner was a huge Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments made by people who had lived at or passed through the mission. Above the door was a huge wreath, complete with red chili peppers and white angels. As Bill looked at the wreath, he had a short twinge of guilt.
Maria and Sal were both only about five feet six inches tall, but their hearts were huge. When Maria saw Bill, she hesitated for a moment and then rushed over to him, wiping her hands on her apron, and gave him a hug.
“Reverend Thompson, so good to see you.” Then holding him at a distance like a mother she added, “You look good. You were always a little too thin. I like the beard; it looks a little like Santa Claus.” Maria had that way of somehow being honest without appearing to be so.
“You look good as ever, Maria. But call me Bill. I am just Bill now.”
“Well okay, Bill,” she said, but somehow Bill sensed that from her point of view there should be
a “Father” or “Reverend” in front of the name. Maria was from the old school that always respected ministers even if they did not deserve the respect.
“How can I help?” Bill asked. The serving process was already well under way.
“Just go over there,” Maria said, pointing to the big crocks of soup. “You can help serve there.” Bill thanked Maria again and walked over to take his place behind the counter. The first person that came up to Bill was a mother who could not have been more than twenty-five. She had two small children with her. They both looked pre-school age and were dressed in clothing from Goodwill or a similar place. It was the girl’s bright eyes that caught Bill’s attention.
“Hi there,” Bill said looking down at the dark-haired little girl. “What is your name?”
“Susie,” the girl said and turned her head away burying her head in her mother’s coat.
“She is shy,” said her mother as she held out a bowl to Bill. Bill took the bowl and filled it with steaming vegetable and turkey soup. Then he filled two other bowls, one for each one in the family. “Thank you and God bless you,” the mother said, moving down the line.
“God bless you,” Bill said and noted that the little girl was looking at him and smiling ear to ear.
That is the way it went throughout the evening. There were tall people, short people, thin people, and hefty people. There were families with men who had the vacant stare and look of defeat. There were single men who had the hard look of having been on the road a long time. There were many “Emma’s” and “Phil’s” who were similar to the people Bill had met in seminary. These were the unseen victims of society that good society does not see or notice. Bill never felt more alive than he did at that moment.
When at last the last person had been served, Bill joined the volunteers who were washing the dishes. Finally, after all the dishes were washed and put away and those staying the night tucked into their beds, Sal, Maria, Bill and several of the volunteers sat down to share their meal. As they gathered around the table, Sal asked Bill if he would like to pray. At first Bill was going to decline, but then for some reason he accepted. His prayer was short, expressing thanks for the food and love shown at the Mission. Bill thanked God for Sal and Maria, the volunteers, and then added something that caused Sal and Maria to just look at each other with a curious look. Bill said, “And thank you for Mary Pond and three cans of soup that has once again become the very best gift.”
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When Sharon returned to their home late Friday, she was feeling bad. She had really gone too far, she thought as she drove up into the driveway of their small home. Bill, she thought, would have every right to leave her, not the other way around. She loved her husband, but she also wanted him to get that spark back. On the way home she had decided that leaving Bill was not an option, though the thought had crossed her mind. She would try to be supportive and understanding and perhaps in time Bill would find himself. As for herself, she was actually relieved to be out of the pressure of Bill’s career. She was, for the first time in her life, really content. Her teaching at the college was something she always had wanted to do. Her only wish is that Bill could find the same kind of joy.
As she stopped the car in the driveway and got out, she was going over what she would say to him. It was unfair to have left him in that way. She and the children had actually had a miserable time because she was so miserable. Part of her hoped that Bill would be waiting and part of her expected him to not even be there. As she got out of the car, she saw Jerry running toward her, tail wagging. Bill was standing on the front porch—smiling. As she tentatively walked up to him, he reached out his arms toward her.
“I am so sorry,” he said as he embraced her and gave her a deep hug.
“I am the one who is sorry,” Sharon said, tears forming in her eyes. She looked at Bill and began to half laugh and half cry. “You shaved; you shaved off your beard!”
“Yep. I was really tired of it.”
“You look great,” Sharon said pulling back a few inches and taking a good look at Bill. “Where did the smile come from?”
Bill hugged her and led her into the house. Sharon was further taken aback when she saw the tree standing in the corner, decorated, its bright lights twinkling.
“You decorated!” Sharon said and now was crying.
They held each other for a few more moments. Bill had coffee brewing and after carrying in Sharon’s luggage, he sat down and told her the story—the story of the three cans of soup, the story of going to the mission, and the story of finding himself.
“I’m hungry,” Bill said after finishing his stories. “Let’s go out to Olive Garden and celebrate!”
“I have a better idea,” said Sharon. “Let’s order pizza and stay in. I think we have some catching up to do.”
That night Bill and Sharon were like when they were much younger. They ate pizza, listened to old Rock and Roll music, made love, and slept more soundly than either had slept for ages. Jerry seemed to have noticed the difference as well; for the first time in months he joined them, cuddling up on the end of the bed and ending up the night squarely between them.
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The next day, Bill and Sharon went shopping. They had not been shopping together for months. They bought presents for Lisa and Robby, presents for each other, new decorations for the home. They ate at Lucia’s Italian Restaurant just off of downtown. When they drove by Central Church, Bill even commented that the old church seemed to be doing quite well.
“I might even buy something for old Benny,” Bill said as they drove by.
“I don’t think so. That would be a little too much grace for my blood,” Sharon said and both laughed.
After shopping and eating, Bill took Sharon by the mission. He introduced her to Sal and Maria and told Sharon that he was going to volunteer to work at the mission several nights a week. He could go there after he got off work at the Bartlett’s Bookstore. He would still reserve a day off so the two of them could spend time together. Bill explained that this was important to him.
“If this is what gave you your smile again then I am one hundred percent for it. You need to do what you feel you need to do,” Sharon said as they were driving home. “I may help as well,” she added.
“I would love to have you there with me. Sal and Maria have done such a wonderful thing. All these years they have been there, serving people, providing a home for the homeless. All those years I was more worried about what people thought of me, worried about my career as a minister, and never realized that the important moments were when I was helping people. Remember when we used to take the money when we went to Kansas City?”
Sharon smiled and said, “I remember, in fact just the other day Robbie mentioned how proud he was when you did that.”
As the weather turned colder and flakes of snow began to transform the city, others noticed the change in Bill. Every morning he got up early and spent time in prayer and meditation. Then he walked a couple of miles. Later he moved into jogging. In the weeks leading up to Christmas he dropped several pounds, his face took on a glow, and his spirit became infectious.
Several nights a week he would leave the bookstore and make the short journey to another world: the world of Second Street. He would join Sal and Maria and the few volunteers as they prepared and served meals. People seemed comfortable approaching Bill to talk. Some wondered where the white beard went. His face now had the look of old Saint Nick even if he was more and more not looking the part. What Bill did look like was a person who had finally found his place, and it took some fifty years to do so.
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Maysville took on the look of Christmas. Uptown, the shoppers were filling the streets. The Big Wheel Mall was packed with the sounds and look of Christmas. The recent snowstorm gave a picture-book quality to the community.
Along Second Street some of the shops and cheap apartments had put out decorations. Three blocks away on Fifth Street, you could hear the familiar ring
of the Salvation Army bell. There was no bell ringer on Second Street. There was, however, the mission, Sal, Maria, and Bill, along with others. Many nights, Sharon joined Bill at the mission to prepare and serve meals. Bill visited the Rotary Club uptown and approached them about providing funds to buy gifts for the homeless people at the mission. After his power-point presentation, several persons who had lived in Maysville for years commented that they had no idea of what lay just blocks away from their businesses. The club decided to underwrite the purchase of clothing, toys, and personal hygiene items for most of the people at the mission. Bill visited other service clubs and got similar commitments. Several churches also made regular contributions. Christmastime was a generous time. The combination of all this meant that Sal, Maria, Bill and Sharon went on a shopping spree to end all shopping sprees. They purchased an outfit for every adult and two outfits for each child. Each child got a special toy. Each adult got a special gift.
A week before Christmas, Bill, Sharon, and volunteers set about adding to the decorations in the main dining hall of the shelter. Bill and Sharon had purchased a twelve-foot artificial Christmas tree. With some of the donations, they purchased decorations for the tree. As Bill was standing on a ladder to placing another huge wreath over another door, Bill thought of the irony of everything. Sharon had arranged for the chorus from her college to hold a special concert of Christmas Carols at the mission. Bill even dressed up as Santa Claus. The irony was that it would have been easier before he lost the weight and the white beard. The volunteers put together a special menu of refreshments. The Mission was crowded both with families staying and visitors from the street. As they sang “Here Comes Santa Claus” to “Joy to the World”, Bill thought that this was what Christmas should be.
