Solomon was waiting for me outside the church last Sunday. A grown man of around 30 now, his trousers hung on him like a sack and his shirt seemed to just be draped over the shoulders of his skeletal frame. He had not eaten that day.
I have known Solomon since he was about 14years old. He came to Vellore from a village on the border of Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. His parents could not afford to keep him and he was asked to go and somehow make a living for himself elsewhere. He had never been to school and I often saw him wandering around outside the hospital. Could we possibly get him into school somewhere I thought?
I asked various people but when you are already 14 years old it is rather late in life to get a place in school. I inquired about hostels but no one seemed to be able to help. Shoe polish and brushes were acquired and Solomon started a small business of cleaning shoes and sandals. His home was the pavement outside the hospital and that is really where he has lived out his life.
Sometimes the shoe cleaning things were stolen while he slept and we would purchase more. He made a makeshift box out of odd pieces of wood but even that disappeared one night. The man who owned the coffee shop kept a small bag with a few possessions for him, which he would collect when he needed to. Depending on the weather Solomon needed something to keep from the cold at night or the rain during the monsoon and I still remember his delight when a warm jumper with a hood that would keep him warm during the winter was given to him. That could not be stolen if he was wearing it. But… Was there not more that I could do?
As the years went by I often struggled thinking of what Solomon really needed. Sometimes he would be waiting to carry the groceries from the shop to the car and he was paid for this. Any kind of work that I felt he could do was paid for, thus giving him a sense of dignity. But… Was there not more that I could do?
I tried many times to find some kind of work for Solomon and I have failed. I have never found anyone more honest than him. He will never ask for money and on some occasions when he has already been given money by someone, which is not often, he will tell me that he had sufficient. One day when I had given him money for a bus fare somehow he later found me to return it and tell me that someone had offered him a lift.
Perhaps as you read this story you would think of all kinds of answers. To me all I can think is that to me Solomon is my friend… someone with whom he can talk when we meet, someone who is willing to give him some time. Sometimes I wonder what is going on in his mind. How can he know of a God who loves and cares for him?
Solomon does know Jesus and I believe that he stays around this hospital and the church nearby because among the people he sees here he finds some comfort in his loneliness and some who care. But… still, I ask myself. Isn’t there more that I can do?
If you would like to join BMS’ mission personnel making a difference in people’s lives – as Ann Bothamley is in Vellore, India – contact us today opportunites@bmsworldmission.org
There may be more that you can do.