The Pink Suitcase

A friend once made an interesting comment about the one common element of human behavior that we all possess, the capacity to love and care for one another. He said, “No matter what we look like, what our skin color may be, how old we are, how different our social, economic, religious or ethnic backgrounds or status might be, in times of trouble and distress: whether it’s an accident by the highway, a public tragedy as a school shooting, comforting the loss of a loved one, or experiencing an horrific events, such as 9/11, we seem to be able to set our differences apart, even if only for a short time, to support and give aid to one another.” His contention is that it is through God’s grace and mercy that each and every man, woman, and child has been given the capacity and desire to love and to be loved. And with this gift comes the freedom to ignore it, as well as the one who has given it to us, or use it for the good of humankind. One Saturday evening after cooking for an affair at my home parish, Holy Spirit Church, I was taking out the garbage and I heard sobbing, moaning, and groaning. As I reached the back of the school building, I saw this young black man, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, sitting on a sidewalk. Beneath him was this tiny pink suitcase. One that a young child might own. It had a big picture of Disney World on the front, with Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck right in the center surrounded by big bright colored balloons. The closer I got to this young man, the louder I could hear his cries. As I passed by, he shouted out, “Hey Mister, do you have a dollar?” Concerned that this might be a set up to rob me, I told him, “No,” in a very harsh and aggressive tone, trying to convince myself and him, that I wasn’t afraid of him or the moment, and that I didn’t have any money to give to him. After reaching the dumpster, I moved to the side cautiously, took a quick glance into my wallet and noticed I had a ten-dollar bill and three singles. I quickly decided that I would give this young man what little I had in my wallet. As I was returning to the parish center the young man was still sitting by the curb with the tiny pink suitcase under his frail, frightened little body. As I got closer to him, I could hear him chanting in a helpless, desperate tone over and over, again and again: “I’m going to die out here, I’m going to die out here, they are going to kill me.” My heart shattered as his sad broken words conveyed the helplessness going on in his head. As I looked at his fragile thin face, I saw hugh tears, filled with fear, pouring from his swollen red puffy eyes flowing down his much too thin cheekbone unto the pink suitcase, each drop turning a faded pink and white as they soaked its surface. In this sad face, I could see the faces of my own grandson and granddaughters. In this face I could see the eyes of Christ. The thought someone being in that situation brought a sense of sadness, pain, and compassion into my heart. At this point, I asked him, “What is wrong with you boy? Why are you crying like that?” Once again, he shouted out, “I’m going to die! They are going to kill me out here. I’m not from Cleveland. I’m from California, he explained. I came here to live with my girlfriend. We met in California, she refused to come back here because she wanted to stay out there with me. So, to get her back home, her dad agreed to let me come back with her and stay with them until we could get ourselves together. “Why did he put you out?” I asked. “We had an agreement, but I got mad and called him the B…word, and then he put me out.” Still sobbing and crying, he asked to use my cell phone to call his girlfriend, who lived in the big green house across the street from the church. After a brief conversation with his girlfriend on the phone, she came running down the hill to the parking lot. We talked, and I managed to convince her to call her dad. After several hours of talking with the three of them, I was able to convince her father to allow the young man to come back and stay with them until they could find another place to live. I’ve never seen or heard from them since. In his new book titled “The Pink Suitcase”, Deacon Friend boldly writes about some of the stories and testimonies of the hope and doubt, courage and fears, strengths and weaknesses, faith, and perseverance, of those who have chosen to use or ignore, the precious gift of love that God has so freely given to all his children, This book is intended to be a source of hope and encouragement for those who are struggling as they travel life's journey. It is a reminder that Jesus is "the life, truth, and the way.”