shoes. (I left them in Mississippi because there was no hope for total smell removal) I told my dad about it on the phone that evening and he said "Ooo that's beautiful...it's as if he washed your feet...like Jesus did to the disciples." I hadn't thought of it that way but it I knew it to be a tender moment of kindness and care.
As he washed off my shoes, 2 Vietnamese kids walked by with back packs on as if on their way home from school. They lived next door and were the children of Mr. Fountain's first ESL student. He told me that he remembered when each them were born and that every Christmas he had them over to decorate his tree. He'd make them popcorn and they'd play songs and make the tree look "real pretty". Mr. Fountain looked far away and said "well that's what I used to do, I suppose."
My eyes welled with tears and I knew that moment was coming where I was going to completely loose it and cry. It'd been a lot to take in seeing the way that the world was down in Mississippi...and I wasn't going to be able to hold much more inside my heart. I quickly uttered "well you will again someday"
That night, I couldn't stop thinking about how sad it made me that Mr. Fountain wouldn't have a Christmas tree this year. I know that plenty of people don't have trees, but I could just see how much joy that his tree brought him.
We were out shopping that night in some of the open stores near our church/campsite, and I decided that I would buy him a Christmas tree. I found a 3-foot tree in a small box, and found also a nice collection of small wooden ornaments, red bows, lights and a star for the top. I think it will actually be a pretty good runner up to his tradition.
I walked over and gave it to him the next morning. He invited me into his trailer because he was having a bowl of chicken soup. He offered me a bowl also, but I refused. We sat and chatted and he admitted how scared he was about moving forward...about reconstructing his house...and his life.
On his small table was a bronze statue of David with a small post-it note over his man parts. Mr. Fountain told me that it was one of the things he was able to save from the house, but that just in case he ever had lady company, he had given him a little "leaf". He snickered, I did too. And then sweetly he said "and I'm glad I did, because I didn't know I'd have lady company today." He smiled. I smiled.
We went outside once he was done with his soup and he looked into his home, bare to the beams, and he asked "Do you think I should even rebuild it?" I said "Yes of course, it's such a lovely home." He was pleased and said "Yes, I agree, it is...I just get so confused because there are so many decisions to make."
We walked out toward the tangerine tree again and he said "Well, I want to thank you for the Christmas tree, but all I have to give you is a tangerine. I'm not sure if it's edible...it was flooded in who knows what...but they're real juicy. I'd like you to have one...but I suggest you wash it off real good."
I accepted the gift of the tangerine. After all it was all he had to give, and he wanted to. I didn't eat it (for fear of toxic sewage juice)...but I took a picture of it. I think the smallest things have such great meaning. That tangerine meant a lot to me, and to Mr. Fountain.
As I left Lamuese Street for the last time, I hugged Mr. Fountain, and we exchanged addresses. I walked out towards my car and he said "I'll remember you with every ornament".
I waved and said "blessings to you dear friend, I'll write." And I will. I'm going to make him a card today. I'll send him some cookies and hope that out of all this chaos I can bring just a little hope to him. We love because God first loved us!
Read another reflection by this author
Back to part one |
