Let me tell you about my friend, Ben. He was an older man who had recently lost his wife. Returning home from a long trip, Ben found his sliding-glass door at the rear of his home shattered and a back door damaged. A neighborhood twelve-year-old had committed the crime. Ben came to see me about it because the investigating officers wanted to remove the boy from his home and place him in a home for troubled kids.
Together, Ben and I thought it a better idea to first go meet with this family and try to understand this behavior. We found out that the mother had been divorced and remarried twice and all three men wanted nothing to do with this young lad. His behavior, it seems, was a cry for attention. I suggested that if the mother was going to pay for the damages, that Ben purchase the material from a home improvement store and have the boy help him do the repairs. This is one of those “happy ending” stories. Ben has a new friend and the boy has a positive male role model in his life!
Now, my story. At 2 a.m. on Thursday, Nov. 30th, my wife and I were awakened by noises in our kitchen. Leaving our bedroom, Joyce and I found lights on and the front door wide open (it was 27 degrees outside.) The china cabinet had empty holes where some valuable crystal used to be. The drawers were empty where silver, carving and steak knives were stored. Large serving platters were missing. My classical guitar was gone.
I went back into the kitchen and picked up the phone and had just completed dialing 911 when a man walked back into our home for another free helping of goodies! As the operator said, “911, what’s your emergency?”, I was saying, “Would you please leave our home.” At that moment I didn’t know if I was going to have to protect our home as he came toward me, or if I could hug him tightly enough that we wouldn’t hurt each other and just wait for the police. I turned to Joyce and told her to unlock the back door fast for her safety and when I turned around, he was gone.
This man was caught the next day and I was invited to the police station to recover our belongings.The officers and detectives know who I am. They know I do not wish harm. But I asked if I could see this man and speak with him. With a thick piece of glass between us and talking through phones, we looked at each other with only two feet between us. I heard his story of alcohol and drugs in his family and in his life. I heard him admit that he needs help. I told him that I believe a better day was ahead for him and for me. I told him that hope gives us courage and strength. After one hour of conversation, I asked him if he would pray with me. We each put one hand against the glass and I offered prayer for God’s love and will for our lives and for our community.
What’s the “connect” between Ben’s story and mine? Thursday, the very day of the crime, not knowing of our experience, Ben called to share an update on his story. He told me that after returning from a trip he turned on his lights and in a few minutes there was a knock on his door. It was this boy who a year earlier burglarized his home. The boy extended his hand, looked at Ben in the eye, and said, “Welcome home.” I got that telephone call about one hour before I went to the jail. The last thing this man said to me was, “When I get out, what would you do if you saw me sitting on the back row?” Remembering Ben’s call, I said,
“I’d shake your hand, look you straight in the eye, and I’d say, ‘Welcome home.'”
Rick Baggett is pastor at First Church in Ardmore, Okla.
