The sound of Dudley’s weeping and lamenting compelled me toward him. He cowering in the corner, hiding his face like a child as D and M held him and spoke gentle words. D had told us earlier that Dudley had been particularly agitated that day, but he wasn’t sure why. He was suffering and needed to be evaluated so he could get some help, but he has no means and the holes in our society’s safety net are too large to hold one like him.
I had a genuine experience of compassion as I watched and listened. I wondered where it came from and why it was so strong this night. I so wanted to take his hurt from him. He hung his head in shame, like an abused victim blaming himself, like a mistreated dog that is resigned to his beatings.
I gathered that this was not the first time Dudley broke like this. From what little I knew about him, life had screwed him. He was dealt a bad set of genetic and experiential cards. I suspect he has lived through things none of us were ever meant to experience. I wondered what injustices he had suffered. I wondered what demons he carried with him. How long had his basic human needs been gone unmet? Why am I so fortunate and Dudley so pitiful?
How many nights had Dudley broke like this out on the streets? How many tears had he shed alone in the woods? But he did not cry alone tonight. Tonight, God physically held him and whispered words of life and light to him through D.
I am so glad I didn't stay home and watch Lost.
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