The days were long at the Hartford Holiday Store, where The Salvation Army collected and distributed food and toys donated through a local radio station and United Technologies Corp.I was to be on duty for two weeks, Monday through Saturday, from 6:45 a.m. until 7:30 p.m. With little or no donations coming in, the days dragged by, and I began to think that this was a waste of my ‘valuable time.’ Then, one day, everything changed.
It was midmorning when two gentlemen walked in. They were disheveled, filthy, and reeking of alcohol. When I asked if I could help them, they replied, “No, just looking.” Funny, I was never afraid of them. I asked if they might like some coffee and something to eat. They took no time in responding, “Yes.” But to my surprise, they rejected the fresh bagels we had on hand for the volunteers. I soon learned why - they had no teeth and could not manage such chewy bread. George and Leo quickly learned that I was a captain in The Salvation Army, and I learned that they were both homeless and sleeping at the shelter. During the day, they walked the streets.
Word was soon out on those streets that a captain from The Salvation Army was giving out coffee and food to “the boys.” Most who stopped by – some several times a day – had been drinking and needed a warm place to hang out. Suddenly, I knew why I was at the holiday store. My mission was not to collect toys, money and food, but to listen, to be a friend, to let these men know that God loved them, no matter what state they were in.
From the beginning, I sensed something was different about George. We often talked about his life and how he had reached this low point. Even when he was so drunk that he couldn’t walk straight, I could see in his eyes that he was crying out for help.
One night, George agreed to go into detox the next morning. That thrilled me…until he didn’t show up. I waited and waited…no George. I even went out and walked the streets – I now knew where the boys hung out. But there was no sign of George, and no one would tell me where he was.
Later that afternoon, a very drunk, very embarrassed George finally showed up. I acted as if nothing were wrong and offered him coffee. He kept spilling it; when he fell asleep with the cup in his hand, I could see that he needed a place to sleep this off. So I gathered some donated coats, placed them on the floor behind a counter, and led George to his makeshift bed. He woke up a couple of hours later and asked if I could get him into a detox program. I found him a placement at a center called Blue Hills, called a taxi for him, and paid the driver to take him there.
That night, George called me at home three times. On the final call, at 11:00 p.m., he asked if I could bring him some cigarettes. I pulled on my sweats, went to a convenience store, and I bought three packs of Newports. I knew enough about addictions to realize that George could not kick two habits at once.) I drove to Blue Hills and walked into the detox area. The guard said, “You must be the captain.” How he knew from my lounging clothes I don’t know.
I can still see George shuffling down the hall toward me. With tears in his eyes he gave me a big hug, and I assured him he was going to beat this thing if he put his trust in God.
That was December 22, 1997. George’s first day of sobriety, the next day, was my 41st birthday. In 1999, I visited George on “our day.” As I looked around his room, I said, “George, whose stuff is this?” “Mine,” he said. I said, “Do you realize that two years ago, you brought me your life’s possessions in a small brown bag?” We both laughed.
He has come a long way, and so have I. George spent several months at the Springfield, MA Adult Rehabilitation Center, run by The Salvation Army. He became resident manager there; he is in a similar position now with the Honor Court, a program run by the Sherriff’s Department in Springfield.
As for me, I learned an important lesson about my part in Kingdom building. What happened at the holiday store wasn’t about my being “the captain,” but about my openness to God’s leading. Those two weeks at the holiday store changed my life forever. I have learned that my ministry is complete when I totally surrender to God’s will, whatever that is.
Lauren Garell
Manchester Citadel Corps
USA East
