Leon Came to Visit
For a time, my mother received a monthly check from Social Security. Her first stop was always my house, where she would leave my youngest sister, Chanel, in my care for the rest of the month. Unfortunately, after leaving my home, my mother often ended up partying, drinking, and using drugs until her funds depleted. Although I did not agree with my mother’s lifestyle, I went along with it to ensure the safety of my youngest sister. I knew that when her money ran out, she would return to my home until her next check arrived. This became a regular pattern in our lives for several years.
This time, however, my mom had brought along two extra people—two guys to help her move some items around in her storage building. One guy was quite outgoing and easy to talk to, while the other kept to himself. I sensed that the reserved one might have felt uncomfortable because he was my mom’s primary companion. She had met Leon, whose nickname was Hope, on the streets of Fort Worth while partying. I didn’t hold it against him; after all, I had personal experience with addiction and remembered the judgment that often accompanied it. I felt bad for him, but I realized there was little I could do. They were adults, and my mother already knew I didn’t agree with her lifestyle.
A couple of weeks after Chanel arrived, the phone rang. It was my mom’s running buddy, who had come to our home with her. He once again introduced himself and apologized for his behavior the last time we met. I could hear my mother in the background telling him to hang up the phone, but he didn’t listen. He admitted he felt uncomfortable around me because he knew he was making bad choices. Apparently, he had been making those same choices for over thirty years. This is when he asked me about our outreach ministry. He wanted to know if we still took people in and gave them an opportunity to straighten out their lives. I told him we still did, and then he asked if we would give him a chance.
His question surprised me at first, but then he explained he was only asking for himself; my mother wasn’t interested. Now, I understood why my mother was telling him to hang up—she didn’t want Hope to stop using drugs because that would mean she would be alone. I thought about how difficult it had been for me to walk away from that lifestyle and ultimately agreed to give Hope a chance.
