James came to the Society of St. Vincent de Paul clothing room today. Every time he comes in, he's wearing a huge smile, and he tells me, "It's just another day in paradise." Today he tacked on, "except a little colder." I commented on his wonderful furry earflap cap, and he smiled even bigger, saying, "You guys gave it to me."
When he was in two weeks ago, James got a thermal undershirt that was too small. He told me he gave it to someone else because it didn't reach his belly button, and he asked for a size bigger this time. He also wanted a warm long-sleeved button down shirt, and a pair of gloves because some idiot at the bus stop stole his when he "wasn't looking."
James is mostly blind. He has one glass eye, and 2% vision in his other eye, peripheral vision. He looked at me by not looking at me. After I helped him find what he needed, he stood and chatted for a while. Eventually, he pulled out a small, well-used paperback New Testament, flipped to a passage inked in yellow highlighter, and said, "read that."
I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. Even so, you have done well to share with me in my present difficulty. (Philippians 4. 11b-14)
If that wasn't enough, he "read" me the beginning of the 9th chapter of John's Gospel in his scratchy, husky voice. Of course, he has it memorized:
As [Jesus] passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him." (John 9. 1-3)
"And that's me," James said.
Amen, brother. God shines in James' cheerful dispostion. I wonder if he saw the tears in my eyes.
