The Unlikely Person

We've all run into this person. They dress differently, perhaps they are even awkward. They appear to do things we might not be interested in. They aren't boisterous or commanding, and they don't call attention to themselves. These are the people we can usually walk right by because we are absorbed with our own day. Our own agenda.

Let me tell you about Lorenzo. I met him when I had taken a big job at a big church. He was one of the 400 volunteers I managed. He was a quiet little man, very earnest about teaching 4th grade Sunday School. Or should I say, being part of the 4th grade Sunday School teaching team. He did not want to lead, but he wanted to be there every Sunday. He liked taking attendance and listening to the kids recite their memory verses.

One of the first things I heard from a concerned parent was that Lorenzo should not be allowed to teach. Apparently he had a rusty old car with a trunk full of junky gift items he would offer the children, or he would give out twenty dollar bills for memory verses. The parent assured me that others were bothered, too. The staff knew about his quirks and just chuckled. Every Christmas he bought and wrapped a new wall calendar for each staff member (there were 30). He was just Lorenzo, the man in the fourth grade class since forever.

Being a security freak, I chatted with Lorenzo about bringing the kids out to his car during church services and how they must stay in the classroom where their parents had signed them in. Lorenzo was innocent to the increase in abuses and genuinely wanted the kids to chose a present, but he did understand that they could not leave the class.

When I told the parent that Lorenzo would be staying in the class and that I would not remove him because his heart was to love the kids, she took her child out for the rest of the year.

I got to know Lorenzo a little bit. During the summer when I gave the year-round teachers three months off, he asked to stay on and help. He was forever running around taking pictures, his camera hanging from his neck. I never did see one of the photos. Lorenzo had never married, and as near as I could tell was in his early 70's. He came from a large family in the Philippines, and had immigrated some 40 years prior. He had come to know Christ in Sunday School as a boy of 10, and that was why he stayed with the fourth grade class year after year. He was celebrating what could happen to a 10 year old.

Lorenzo was one of the only volunteers to ever send  me "thank you" cards. I recently found one I had stuck in a book and it still made me smile. He took the time others didn't to value me all the while I was just grateful for him.

Lorenzo became very sick, but he still pushed himself to come to church every Sunday. It devasted him when the cancer weakened him to the point where he had to stay home because he couldn't see his beloved children. I organaized a dinner brigade so that some fresh food was coming into his home every other day. My five-year old son and I delivered a meal to his little home at least once a week.

He lived in a run-down neighborhood with unkept lawns and houses to match. If the show "Hoarders" had been on TV at the time, they could have filmed inside. It looked like he had never thrown out a single magazine or newspaper in years. Worn chairs sat nearly on top of one another and photo albums were piled into an old bookshelf.  He thought nothing of his mess and kindly welcomed us to clear off a couple of chairs and visit with him. A brother had flown in to be with him and we were shown family photos and given an oral history.

After a few weeks, Lorenzo became too sick to stay home and was brought to ICU for the last days of his life. He was hooked up to a number of machines and struggled to even speak. I visited him and would read from his beloved Bible, tell him a story or pray with him. He desparately wanted to live and return to the children. By this time his small frame was even more frail and it occured to me that perhaps he shouldn't fight it any longer. He knew he would be with his family and fully healthy in Heaven.  The last thing I said to him, gripping his thin fingers in mine and locking my eyes on his was "you can do this, Lorenzo."

Lorenzo  went to be with The Lord that night. His family made funeral arrangements for a service to be held in the main sanctuary that weekend.  I was astounded to learn that he had requested me to be one of the four speakers. It was my honor to prepare a message on Lorenzo's behalf.

Before his funeral, I had been a terrified public speaker. That day I became a public speaker for Lorenzo and my old fears fell away. It wasn't about me. I could do this. Two of the other speakers did not even go to our church, and I was the least qualified of the group, but I shared about the Lorenzo I knew who had loved children, and held up the last calendar he had given me. Over 400 people had come to celebrate and say good-bye.

After our messages, the emcee asked if anyone in the room had something to share about Lorenzo. He walked around with a mic for the next forty-five minutes as people stood and told us what Lorenzo had meant to them. With each expression came more awe from the crowd.

He had chosen to live frugally so that he could share his money, and share he did. There were a number of scholarship recipients and others who shared how their education or mission had been funded. No less than five people stood and said they had become pastors because of Lorenzo. He had lead Bible studies, mentored people for years and turned boys into men who were now mentoring others. It seemed that no one in the room knew the breadth of Lorenzo's reach until we heard all the piceces that day.

We were all amazed at what a genrous and sacrificial man he had been. He had made a huge mark on the world with the lives he had touched with his quiet life.

In the rest room later, the parent who had wanted him removed three years prior came up to me, her face ashen. "Remember when I asked you to get him out?" I nodded, but I really hadn't thought about it since that day. "You were right."

That was ten years ago, and Lorenzo has been teaching me about appreciating people ever since.