Two Latter Day Saints, One Felon, and An Egg Roll
The time we gave a felon a ride home
What would happen if we stopped being so darn scared of people who are different than us? What if we looked them in the eye and touched their arm and acknowledged their humanity, their loveliness in the eyes of our shared Creator?
Minds would be blown. Hearts would be reached. Lives would be changed. Of that I am certain.
But first, a quick disclaimer:
I’ve had this story typed up for at least two months now, but I haven’t shared it. I could just hear all you dear ones scolding me and typing madly at your keyboards: “Deidre! What were you thinking? What a very dumb thing to do!”
So for the record: I am not in the habit of welcoming men I don’t know into my vehicle, and I am not suggesting that we ever put ourselves in unsafe situations. I’m not someone who picks up hitchhikers or walks down dark alleys alone (I promise, Mom). I happen to be an excellent judge of character and my surroundings. Now, this particular situation happened to lend itself to going out on a limb, but I think it’s prudent to remember Jesus’ words: we are supposed to be innocent as doves, yes, but we should also be shrewd as serpents (Matthew 10:16). In other words—love others without resignation, but also be wise, aware, and street-smart. Don’t do dumb stuff.
At the same time, though, Jesus hung out with some seriously unsavory characters, and also people with entirely different beliefs than his. The religious people were disgusted, of course.“Why would you hang out with them?” they’d demand of Jesus. Or, “If only he knew who was touching him…” they’d think.
I see a lot of this same finger-pointing happening in the church and in the world right now, and what I have to say to that is this: What would happen if we stopped being so darn scared of people who are different than us? What if we looked them in the eye and touched their arm and acknowledged their humanity, their loveliness in the eyes of our shared Creator?
Minds would be blown. Hearts would be reached. Lives would be changed. Of that I am certain.
A second disclaimer:
Turns out, our felon swore a lot. I bleeped out some letters, but you’ll still get the gist. The thing is—Jesus approaches us, uncensored. So it felt fitting to keep it real here, too.
Sometimes life interrupts our routines, as if to smack us in the face and say, “Wake up! It’s not all about you!” That very thing happened to me one evening when all I wanted to do was eat an egg roll.
It was June and I was still teaching—so it was probably six years ago, now. The school year had reached the point where everyone knew it should be over, but we still had to keep going. The fifth grade girls had already become sixth graders, pairing off and tittering about boys and leaving one another out. The boys were silly as ever, and from them came a steady eruption of farting noise and witty comments. By the end of the day I thought my eyes might roll right out of my head. I was not cooking supper.
So we went to Happy Dragon for Chinese. We had it all—chicken lo mein, pork fried rice, egg rolls and black tea and fortune cookies. I read for the millionth time that I was born in the year of the goat, and am best suited for a profession in gardening or beachcombing (which was starting to sound pretty tempting). I Instragrammed my fortune telling me to ‘be happy with the person you are, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise’ (it got nineteen likes). Ethan ate my last chicken finger. And then it was eight o’clock and all we wanted was to get our MSG-bellies to bed.
As we walked up the street and rounded the building to the back lot where we parked, we saw two figures emerging from the darkness. I scooched closer to Ethan; Biddeford may be up and coming, but it’s still good to have your wits about you.
“Hey!” one of the figures called. The keys came out of Ethan’s pocket, the car beeped as he unlocked it. I thought about how very much I needed to unbutton my pants and how I didn’t have time for this.
“Do you know where Rapid Ray’s is?”
I stopped. Someone looking for hot dogs? With this, I might be able to help. “Down the street,” I pointed. “Just follow Main Street over the bridge and it will be on your right.” Work done. I reached for the door, really regretting that last egg roll.
“Are you religious at all?” chimed the other, stepping forward to be washed by the glow of a nearby street lamp. The pink-orange light illuminated both boys’ faces, young and still smooth and hopeful.
“Well,” started Ethan, taking his hand off the handle and moving toward the boys, “We’re Christians.” I groaned; I knew then it would be a long time before I could take these bloody jeans off.
The boys smiled. “I’m Elder Branch,” the taller one said.
“And I’m Elder Herb,” said the other. “We’re from the Church of Latter Day Saints—have you heard of that?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, “You guys are…”
“Mormons.” Herb smiled again.
Now. There come times in our lives when we can choose to avoid people who believe something different than we do, or we can choose to learn from them. And sometimes that choice has to be made on a Wednesday night when you’ve eaten too much Chinese and have to get up and go to work in the morning. ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up!’ life prodded.
“So I’ve always wondered,” I said (at this point I’d given up hoping that any shred of our evening routine could be salvaged), “What do you believe?”
This launched an involved conversation about Jesus and the prophets and the process of a Mormon mission for eighteen-year-old boys, which our new friend Branch and Herb just so happened to be conducting.
In the middle of our conversation, we were interrupted. “Oh no,” we heard, as another figure emerged from the dark back lot. “F-ing Birch and Herb.” The figure laughed, which made him cough on his cigarette smoke. The boys looked at us, nervous apology bouncing silently around the group.
“These guys making you listen to all that religious sh-t?” he asked, clapping his hands firmly around each of their shoulders. Their bodies tensed in unison.
“Naw,” Ethan said. “We’re just talking. You know these guys?”
“Yeah I know these guys,” the guy sputtered. “They be walkin’ all over Biddeford, telling me and all my friends about that religious sh-t.” He scanned our circle, smirking. That was when he noticed me standing there. He took an exaggerated step backwards. “Day-um, forgive my language.” He extended his hand to me. “I did not know I was in the presence of a lady.”
“It’s fine,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard worse.”
“You are one lucky man,” he whispered indiscreetly to Ethan. Ethan stood a little taller, in between the two of us. “Yeah, I’ve got a lady too,” the guy continued. “She’s probably waiting for me to get home. She’s always like, ‘Where the fu-’” he looked at me, “I mean h-ll you been?’ You always be out late. If you don’t get your sh-t together I’m moving out.” He looked around again, flicked his cigarette butt, and continued. “But see that place? Yo, that’s a good place and they tryin’ ta close it down.” He pointed between Birch and Herb to the place from where he’d just emerged. “Yeah, but I got a plan. Imma help my buddy keep it open. Yeah, when I first got out, didn’t have no place to go or eat, that guy fed me every night. Cool people there—no drinking or anything like that. Just nice guys, usually a pool game or somein’ like that. Not like these guys,” he said, jutting his chin toward the boys. “They say they love Jesus and that sh-t but they’re all talk. They won’t even give me a ride home. They don’t want me in their car.”
“That’s not true, we just can’t -”
“And what about you two? You all religious too?” He waved his fingers like a magician when he said the word.
“Well, we love Jesus, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said. Since we were all being honest about our beliefs, and all.
He nodded somberly. “Ya’ll, that’s cool or whatever. So you say you’re Christians? Then maybe you’ll give me a ride. I just wanna go home. Yo, Birch and Elder don’t care.”
“Well…” I started.
“Yeah, we’ll give you a ride, man,” Ethan finished. “Where do you live?”
The man turned to Birch and Herb, triumphant.“Yo, these guys are the real deal.” Then he turned to us. “Thanks man, thanks so much.” He took my hand again and this time, kissed it.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Ethan stepped forward and he promptly dropped my hand. “Let’s go.”
“You can have the front,” I said.
“You have a very fine lady man,” I heard him say to Ethan as I climbed in the backseat. Before he got in, he poked his head inside, his hands open and facing me in surrender. “Ya’ll aren’t going to shoot me, are you?” I laughed, because his face was dead serious. And because I was thinking the same thing.
We waved goodbye to the elders. I told them to enjoy their hotdogs. They said it was too late now.
“Yeah, I’m so happy I did not have to walk tonight. It’s pretty far in the dark,” the guy prattled on as we drove away. “It’s not such a bad place. You know, I was taking care of my momma but once I got out I couldn’t go back. She has a daycare and yeah, with me being a felon and all, it wasn’t the best situation. But I got me a girl now. Over here,” he pointed.
We turned into a government-funded housing development. “Yeah man, there’s my house.”
Ethan pulled up to the curb. He handed the man his business card. “Good luck with saving that place, man. If you ever need potatoes, I’ll bring them over there. You just call me.”
The man smiled and shook his hand. “Thank you, man, thanks so much. And thanks for the ride.” He turned in his seat to look at me. “And you have a very good night.”
“You too,” I said.
Then he got out. And that’s how we ended up hanging out with a couple of Latter Day Saints and a felon, on a Wednesday night when all I wanted was an egg roll.
I couldn’t help but wonder, as I rode home in the back seat (because I was too afraid to get out of the vehicle), why this chance encounter happened. For it was far too odd to be a coincidence. Here’s what I think: God needed to smack me awake, to remind me that life is not all egg rolls and butterflies. That there are other people besides me that are dealing with real, deep suffering. That those people who say “f-k” and ask for rides home are the very ones he loves and wants. And that our being afraid is just an excuse not to love them.
Sometimes, good lessons come even on Wednesday nights after bedtime.
Love this story and i can so see Ethan being Ethan and helping the guy out
I can really hear you voice! Loved this story!