I'm Clean Now

I long to accomplish a great and noble task; but my chief duty is to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble - (Helen Keller)

I want to introduce you to Gerry. I meet Gerry in the parking lot at 7-11. He is carrying two green garbage bags full of cans and bottles and roots through the garbage barrels at the gas pumps in search of recyclables.

I am waiting to meet someone and am just observing the surroundings, including Gerry’s work. Standing beside my pickup I glance in the box and notice an empty pop bottle as well as another empty lying on the parking lot asphalt – so I grab them and walk over to Gerry. He takes them with a toothy smile and says thanks and I give him a thumbs-up and walk back to my truck.

A few moments later Gerry is ambling past, one overflowing bag slung over his shoulder, the other carried at the hip. On a lark I ask him if he needs a ride somewhere. To my surprise he says yes – would I happen to be going to the bottle depot? Sure I say – I’ll take you. He tosses his bags into the box of the truck, has a quick smoke, jumps in and we are off.

Let me describe Gerry: He is rough looking – gaunt and very rough looking. Long scraggly salt and pepper hair that is much in need of a wash; long scraggly salt and pepper beard. He is not recently bathed and his jacket and clothes are screaming for a washing machine. His dentist really misses him as well. He is somewhere between 40 and 80 and the story of a life hard-lived pours from his eyes.

And in that instant I love him.

On the way to the bottle depot I ask a few questions about his life. He shares with me that he picks bottles to make a living. He walks all over town, down the highway ditches; thumbs a ride to other towns; he’s the human equivalent on an ant – hard-working, picking up the left-behind bits of humanity’s castoffs. It’s long hours and Gerry’s body is not in its prime. He goes on – he has lived his whole life in Camrose. Well, almost his whole life. He did live in Drumheller for a spell – but that is a bad place he tells me, especially at night. And some people hang around that bench there and they have shotguns and will shoot you.

That caught my attention. 'Really', I say, 'shotguns.' 'Oh yeah – at the penitentiary,' he says. 'Oh – guards.' 'Yeah, they’ll shoot you if you try to run.'  So I ask, 'did you ever do time, Gerry.' 'Oh sure', he says offhandedly, as though I’ve asked if he ever washes his car. 'Most of my life in and out. The Max, the Fort, Drum – but I’ve been good now that I’m clean', he says with a proud grin. 'I’m on probation.' He seems pleased that he is not locked up and that he is clean and living in an apartment and making a living. And I am humbled beside him.

He is quiet for a moment, pondering.  'One thing I’d like though', he says. 'It’d sure be helpful to have a bike'(pedal bike)  – 'a bike and a trailer to haul behind to carry bottles and to get around. My feet hurt all the time and my hands are not so good anymore.'  He does not say it as a complaint – just states a fact. His hands are in rough shape – they shake a bit and have evidence of hard use. He gazes off into the distance somewhere and sees himself with a simple bike pulling a little trailer full of bottles and cans. And life is good.

Ah, Gerry. A bike. Just a bike. So that you can pay a little rent and buy some food. So that you can pick up my castoffs and keep our city a little cleaner. Just a bike. Not a new truck or a huge TV or a trip to Vegas or Mexico. Not a leather couch or… or any luxury. Just a bike and a cart. Gerry – I am shamed to ride beside you and face the foolishness of my greed.

We are almost at the bottle depot. So little time. 'Gerry', I say, 'I want to tell you something.' He looks over, eyes of a child, earnest, open, honest. 'Gerry – you are a gift to this world.' Immediate response – joy. Really? his eyes say as his face breaks into another toothy grin. 'Gerry', I say, 'God put you on this earth for a reason – you are kind and you have something to give this world. You are a gift of love.' 'Yeah', he says, 'some people say that.' He smiles.

We have arrived. 'Thanks for the ride.' 'No problem Gerry' – he grabs his day’s labor from the box of the truck. 'Busy here today', he says as he shuffles over to an empty table.

I drive away with Gerry’s words echoing in my thoughts – “it’s good, I’m clean now.” My heart is resonating with those words “I’m clean now” – because you see – it’s true. I am clean now. Christ makes me clean and it is good. To Gerry clean-ness means that he has a chance at life, a chance to be true to himself, a chance to make a difference in other people’s lives – to make a difference in my life. Like Gerry I want to shout out to the world – I’m clean, inside and out, and because I’m clean I’m free.

Gerry is my brother – we are clean together and I celebrate the gentle heart in this man who takes life so simply and earnestly.

Thank you Gerry – for nudging me today.

I leave the last word to Father James Keller:

A candle loses nothing of its light by lighting another candle. 

Pastor Bill

Close your eyes
for a
moment

and breathe
deeply

listen...

the beauty of
your heart
reaches
out to the world

where
it will
touch
and
bring healing

Breathe
God
into
you