Nathanael Rowe

Peter lives some where nearby the church.  I have gotten to know him over the past several months since I am his razor supplier.  When his beard has gotten too long, he knows he can ask me for a razor, and I’ll give him one, as long as he is not too drunk.  He always wants to shake my hand when he sees me, and yesterday was no exception.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wish to dehumanize him by not shaking his hand, its just that along with Peter comes several stains of dried snot, the constant smell of a mixture of urine and cheap booze, and his hands, well I just don’t know where they have been.

Anyway, yesterday I shook his hand and told him I would be right out with a razor.  I went inside and washed my hands instantly then I went and got the razor.  When I handed him the razor, he was very thankful, so he again grabbed my hand to thank me, and then still holding it asked if I had any money.

I had just told him in our encounter 4 minutes ago that I didn’t have any money.  This of course was a lie, I just know better than to let Peter know I have cash on me.  I reminded him that I did not have any money, and asked him if he remembered my name, since he had asked me that 4 minutes prior as well.

He shouted out a couple of random names that sound nothing like mine, so I just had to laugh.  I thought about how I know his name all too well, he is after all pretty infamous in that area, but I don’t know if it is even possible for him to remember mine.  Its kind of ironic the way he forgets my name. It reminds me of someone who is very full of himself, like some kind of quasi celebrity and therefore had little time to remember anyone’s names.  This dirty homeless man, gives off a similar feeling, but it is not because he is arrogant, I just think he lacks the kind of social skills it takes to remembers someone’s name.

I reminded him of my name and went back to the church to wash my hands again.  I came out and started setting up the ramps with a junior high student from the neighborhood named Juan.  Juan seems to be a good kid, he voluntarily swept all the pine needles away from the skate ramps while I was talking with Peter.  Some of Juan’s friends came to help us carry some of the ramps out.  While we were doing so, Peter walked over and decided he was going to help.

I like the idea of Peter helping, but in reality he shouldn’t be around kids.  He has said some things to kids in the neighborhood that force me to keep him separated from them, for their own safety.  So I kept asking Peter to step back, and not to worry cause we could handle it.  Well after asking this several times, he wasn’t getting the idea, that I didn’t want his help.  So I stopped and told Peter, “Peter, you are too drunk right now for me to let you hang out with the kids, I don’t think you are the best example for them right now, and so I am going to have to ask that you not hang out here while the kids are here.”  I have to be honest, my feelings were very mixed in saying that.  On one hand I need to protect the kids, and he can be very counterproductive to what we are trying to do here so it feels kind of good to tell him off, but on the other hand, I don’t want to belittle Peter or make him feel like he is less than the rest of us somehow.  Either way, he shouldn’t be around the kids, and he agreed.

Before he left he had one request, he wanted me to pray over him.  “Really?” I thought.  “I just reamed you, and you are going to ask me to pray over you?”  OK, I thought and I again grabbed his hand, and started to pray over him.  I asked God to look out for him, and to protect him, and all that other stuff you awkwardly say when you are praying over someone.  “Amen” Then Peter said, without letting go of my hand, “Can I pray for you?”

“Of course” I said.

He told me to close my eyes, and then he went on to pray all kinds of blessings over me, or at least I think that is what he did.  I heard him say a couple of times that we were like brothers, and that he loved me.  Now that was probably the booze more than anything, but it really touched me that he would say that, even though at the same time I was hesitantly waiting for the moment that he would let go of my hand so that I could wash it again.  He finally ended with an Amen and wandered off, as the kids watched nearby with confusion.

Honestly, I don’t really like Peter.  He annoys me, and he defecates on the storage units for the skate ramps, but I am constantly remind of Jesus’s words.  “Whatever you did to the least of these, you did unto Me.”  Really God?  Really?  Am I really supposed to treat the smelly disgusting alcoholic sexual predator like he is You?  That is ridiculously hard to do.  I guess the only thing I can do is to continue to keep trying to show love towards Peter as if he were Jesus himself, despite my own repulsion towards him