The Smallest Part

This past week we had a tenant leave Uturn.  In the "biz" it is technically known as "bailing".  By the way I say that firmly tongue in cheek.

A fellow staff member checked in on Ed's apartment to find a unmitigated disaster; serious cleanliness issues, damage to almost every area of the apartment including a couple of doors off their hinges and a eerie lack of belongings.

When she reported what she found she wondered if perhaps Ed had flown the coop and I quickly put an end to the wondering with a declaration of, "he's gone."  I hung my head.   Frustration, sorrow creeping in around the edges.

A very short time later our director saw Ed outside the building checking his mail and alerted us.  My colleague jumped into her squad car, turned on the sirens and sped down the stairs to meet Ed out in front of the office.  As she asked about the state of his apartment and the lack of his clothes and bedding, Ed suggested that he took his clothes to get washed.  All of them.  And all of his bedding.  All at the same time. Oh!  That makes perfect sense.  My colleague made an appointment with him to show up the next day to clean the apartment.  When she told me and my director this plan we smirked.  He's gone we suggested. He likely was checking his mailbox for his cheque and hoped to be a sight unseen.  My colleague suggested that she was earnestly praying for him and that Ed would be back the next day.

And then wouldn't you know it, he friggin' showed up the next day for his appointment.  He even apologized for being late and when Ed and my colleague went to his apartment the damage, the garbage, the food on the counters was all gone.  Ed had done a pre-clean.  Miraculous?  An answer to prayer?  Dumb, blind luck?  Perhaps all of the above.

Go figure.  Ed showed up when all signs pointed to Ed being another one of our tenants that, for a variety of reasons decide that they "need" to exit without notice.

When I went to chat with Ed the next day, it was clear that Ed did end up bailing.  No bed, no belongings minus some kitchen items and cereal on the counter.  Ed was history and to be honest, my cynicism did a small fist pump.  "Yes, I was right!  How's that for an answered prayer?"  Not proud of that, just sayin'.

On Sunday the parable of the Mustard Seed was reference in church.  You're likely well aware of the story that speaks of the Kingdom of God is like the tiny seed that, when matures, grows into a very large tree with broad boughs that carry a wonderful load of life.  As I heard it I melted a little and thought of Ed.

Perhaps the answered prayer was that Ed came back one last time.  Maybe that was the miracle, that Ed was in the presence of love, acceptance, caring and support one more time.  My colleague told him that she was proud of him for cleaning up, for taking care of some things.  When our tenants are in her presence they feel like a somebody.  Maybe a tiny, miniscule seed was planted in that time together.  Maybe the Kindgom of God will produce something wonderful in Ed yet, something that produces life, goodness and wholeness.

As it goes, we'll just keep on planting the mustard seeds and I'll work at keeping the cynic in me at the edge of the property while inviting faith, hope and love permanent residence.