I sat with W and her man last night, beside him, across from her. Right before dessert, he went out for a smoke and some nitro, and W and I had a nice time chatting, until she started to cough.
I've seen her cough before, and it always scares the crap out of me.
It starts small, and gets bigger. The air goes out and out and out and out and none seems to go in to replace it. Her lips are sealed tight, good manners I suppose, and her whole body clenches and shakes. She tucks her chin close to her chest and gets a distressed look on her face.
The only sound her coughing makes is in her chest. You can hear the plosive wheezing as the air gets forced out and she braces herself with both hands on the table. Her face seems to swell and turns darker and darker and darker. I'd put good money on it that, unless you work in emergency services, you've never seen anybody turn that colour. I don't even know if it's got a name.
I'm sitting across from her, hoping she doesn't black out because there are people sitting between where I am and where she is and I don't think I can get there in time to keep her from hitting the floor full force.
She fixes her eyes on mine, coughing and coughing and coughing, like she wants to say something and fumbles for her styro cup.
"Do you want some juice?"
She manages a fraction of a nod.
"What kind?"
She mouths, "Purple."
I go to the juice table and grab the carton. "This one?"
She nods again.
I pour her some juice and she takes a shot at sipping it. It seems to help. Not sure why. But finally she's able to breathe and she relaxes and her colour goes back to normal
The first time I saw this happen, her hubby was with us. A couple of other people became very concerned that she might be choking and the word 'Heimlich' was mentioned. Somebody started patting her on the back and she twisted in her seat enough to wave them away. She doesn't like being patted on the back.
And in all this her hubby, with perfect aplomb, said, "She does that."
Oh. OK. I guess it's alright then.
We talked a little bit about the Motel and some of the people who live there.
He said, "Maybe you can give me some advice."
He said that his church, a fairly typical evangelical church in a pretty ordinary city, has a recent problem.
They want to be able to 'reach out' to the marginalized people living on the streets in their neighbourhood. But one of these guys has started coming to Sunday morning services. Actually coming. Every week. Sitting in a pew, listening to the sermon and the music.
He looks like a street person, shaggy and rough and patched. Probably smells a bit like one, too. But that's not the problem.
The problem is that after every service, while people are milling about in the lobby having coffee and talking, this man starts working the crowd. Going from person to person, group to group, asking for money.
It makes people extremely uncomfortable. They don't want to say no. Some do and some don't. But, he said, "People shouldn't have to be in that position."
So our friend wondered whether I had any suggestions as to how to handle this situation.
I have to admit I don't have a good answer. It's a tough one.
I mean, if you want to reach out to the homeless and there's one in your lobby, it's a pretty easy reach, isn't it?
On the other hand, you don't want to be squeegied in your own church. And a lot of respectable, well-meaning folks find the marginalized intimidating.
So - the best I could say is this:
Don't give him money. Giving him money creates a relationship that's not natural or sustainable. It's not friendship, it's not love and it's not solving this man's problems.
Rather, recruit a few willing souls to take him in hand as soon as the service ends. The same people every week. Embrace him, get to know him, keep his focus on something other than begging. Give him the chance to see that you're real people, not just a source of cash. Be his friend.
And see what happens.
It'd be a lot of work for somebody. But it's better than doing nothing, better than feeling guilty for feeling relieved when he eventually disappears and definitely better than making him a source of discomfort for everyone else and, therefore, unwelcome.
If anybody has any other suggestions, they're very welcome.
And pray for W.
r
I've seen her cough before, and it always scares the crap out of me.
It starts small, and gets bigger. The air goes out and out and out and out and none seems to go in to replace it. Her lips are sealed tight, good manners I suppose, and her whole body clenches and shakes. She tucks her chin close to her chest and gets a distressed look on her face.
The only sound her coughing makes is in her chest. You can hear the plosive wheezing as the air gets forced out and she braces herself with both hands on the table. Her face seems to swell and turns darker and darker and darker. I'd put good money on it that, unless you work in emergency services, you've never seen anybody turn that colour. I don't even know if it's got a name.
I'm sitting across from her, hoping she doesn't black out because there are people sitting between where I am and where she is and I don't think I can get there in time to keep her from hitting the floor full force.
She fixes her eyes on mine, coughing and coughing and coughing, like she wants to say something and fumbles for her styro cup.
"Do you want some juice?"
She manages a fraction of a nod.
"What kind?"
She mouths, "Purple."
I go to the juice table and grab the carton. "This one?"
She nods again.
I pour her some juice and she takes a shot at sipping it. It seems to help. Not sure why. But finally she's able to breathe and she relaxes and her colour goes back to normal
The first time I saw this happen, her hubby was with us. A couple of other people became very concerned that she might be choking and the word 'Heimlich' was mentioned. Somebody started patting her on the back and she twisted in her seat enough to wave them away. She doesn't like being patted on the back.
And in all this her hubby, with perfect aplomb, said, "She does that."
Oh. OK. I guess it's alright then.
* * * * *
A while ago, my husband and I were having lunch with a guy. We talked a little bit about the Motel and some of the people who live there.
He said, "Maybe you can give me some advice."
He said that his church, a fairly typical evangelical church in a pretty ordinary city, has a recent problem.
They want to be able to 'reach out' to the marginalized people living on the streets in their neighbourhood. But one of these guys has started coming to Sunday morning services. Actually coming. Every week. Sitting in a pew, listening to the sermon and the music.
He looks like a street person, shaggy and rough and patched. Probably smells a bit like one, too. But that's not the problem.
The problem is that after every service, while people are milling about in the lobby having coffee and talking, this man starts working the crowd. Going from person to person, group to group, asking for money.
It makes people extremely uncomfortable. They don't want to say no. Some do and some don't. But, he said, "People shouldn't have to be in that position."
So our friend wondered whether I had any suggestions as to how to handle this situation.
I have to admit I don't have a good answer. It's a tough one.
I mean, if you want to reach out to the homeless and there's one in your lobby, it's a pretty easy reach, isn't it?
On the other hand, you don't want to be squeegied in your own church. And a lot of respectable, well-meaning folks find the marginalized intimidating.
So - the best I could say is this:
Don't give him money. Giving him money creates a relationship that's not natural or sustainable. It's not friendship, it's not love and it's not solving this man's problems.
Rather, recruit a few willing souls to take him in hand as soon as the service ends. The same people every week. Embrace him, get to know him, keep his focus on something other than begging. Give him the chance to see that you're real people, not just a source of cash. Be his friend.
And see what happens.
It'd be a lot of work for somebody. But it's better than doing nothing, better than feeling guilty for feeling relieved when he eventually disappears and definitely better than making him a source of discomfort for everyone else and, therefore, unwelcome.
If anybody has any other suggestions, they're very welcome.
And pray for W.
r
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