Do I Look Like An Idiot?

It is Saturday morning and the kids are all out. The house is quiet and I am on the computer enjoying the last bit of solitude before my beloved returns from Lowes. He is not a happy camper today. Actually, his bad mood began when he got home from work last night to find a flooded bathroom. For the rest of the evening he grumped and groaned and griped and muttered as he investigated the problem. By bedtime, the news was not good. Our water heater had died.

Now, I am one of the lucky ones. My beloved can do anything. He makes his living in construction and can build, remodel, fix, repair, patch, or rig anything and everything. This gift has saved us a ton of money over the years. The down side to it is that he is NOT going to pay someone to do something he can do himself. Consequently, if it is something I want done, it will have to wait until he is ready, willing to spend the time and money, has the time, wants to make the time, or sees the need. However, some things, like hot water, cannot afford to wait and must be done immediately, hence the bad mood. He can’t put it off and he WON’T pay someone else to do it.

Back to this morning. He comes home from Lowes. I am hiding in the computer room. He walks around the corner, completely fills the doorway, and booms, “Do I look like an idiot?”

Ok, ladies. On a good day, one should always take care in responding to this question. Compare this to, “Do I look fat in this?” But today? Today, I am not going there. I take in the obvious. He has not combed his hair today, nor has he shaved in a couple of days. His once white t-shirt is stained and coated with something chalky, as are his shorts. He is wearing those ankle socks shoved into the top of those combat-looking work boots that he loves. Apparently he left the house without by-passing Lovey. She has been known to stop him with, “Dad, no. You can’t be serious. You are not leaving the house looking like that. What will people say about me?”

My mind catalogues through the quips, the puns, and the sarcastic comments that are flooding my consciousness, but with the wisdom of 30 years of marriage, I ask, “How do you mean that, exactly?”

He launches into a story.

“I’m coming out of Lowes, headed toward my truck. There’s this little Oriental lady pushing a cart with about 15, 80 pound sacks of concrete mix toward the Volvo next to my truck. She opens her trunk and bends over to pick up the first sack. She doesn’t weigh 90 pounds sopping wet herself and here she is trying to pick up this 80 pound sack of concrete mix.”

Sidebar: I don’t know why, but if he is telling a story that involves a petite person, in an effort to paint the mental picture for me, as I am very visual, he always tells me what that person would weigh sopping wet. Now, I ask you, how often is this, an issue? How often are you called upon to lift a sopping wet petite person? In contrast, if the person is of hefty proportions, he will say something like, “Oh, he was 325, easy.”

Back to his story: “As I’m walking up to my truck, I say, ‘Whoa, whoa, ma’am. You don’t need to be lifting those. I’ll do it for you.”

She looks up, smiles graciously, and backs out of his way. After the last sack of concrete mix is placed in her trunk, he shuts the lid, dusts his hands off onto his shorts, and turns to hear laughter. Two oriental men are looking at the woman as they are approaching the Volvo laughing. “See, we told you. If we sent you out here alone, someone would load those for us!”

Bless his heart. My hero, who has never passed a woman stranded in her car on the side of the road without stopping to help. In his mind, these people had taken advantage of him and in an effort to do a good deed, he walked away convinced that all he actually ended up doing was looking like an idiot.

“So, I ask you. Do I look like an idiot?”

“No. You look like a man of God who saw a need and rushed to meet it, without thinking about whether or not the need was real or even if someone was trying to take advantage of you. We have no control over people’s motives. You did what you had to do. You did the right thing at the time and I’m proud of you.”

I wish I were more like him. I am so concerned with my safety as a woman, that I do wonder if the panhandler on the side of the road is for real, or if the hitchhiker will put his creepy hands on my window like in the Twilight Zone and say, “Going my way?” as he leers at me. These fears have kept me from being the Good Samaritan more times than I care to admit to you. Not my beloved, whose actions remind me of Matthew 25:34-40, where Jesus talks of rewards in the kingdom of heaven that are given to those who serve without thought of reward.

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you invited me in. I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you looked after me. I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison, and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”