Got to know a good soul years back

In my formative years, I worked for the Appalachia Service Project, a home repair ministry affiliated with the United Methodist Church.

We went into the poorest areas of Eastern Kentucky and Tennessee and used donated money, supplies and volunteers to make homes warmer, safer and drier for their residents.

We were directed by the project’s founder, Glenn “Tex” Evans, to “accept people right where they are, and just the way they are.” With that non-judging attitude, we ventured into some challenging and desperate circumstances.

One house was taken over by dozens of cats; their droppings were everywhere. The house had no water because the pipes had frozen and burst. A frail, elderly woman and a confused, friendly old man lived there. They had no money and they wanted and needed our help, and we agreed.

Our mission: Clean the place up, then get the water back on.

The cats were easy enough; we put them out and they found other places to live. The cleanup was harder, but a few days later, the place was acceptable.

Now it was time to find a plumber, which we could not afford either. A social worker told us of a local man who could do the job, and might just volunteer his labor to the effort. He was a skilled plumber and a good man, the social worker told me, though haunted by war.

I met Bill at the house one morning, and he agreed to get the water back on, as long as I agreed to be his helper. He never took a dime for any of the work he did.

For two days we worked on that house, running pipes and sealing joints and getting to know each other along the way. I learned that he had operated a tank in Korea, got caught in combat and spent three years as a prisoner of war. After the war, he returned home, moved into a rundown family home just outside town.

And he drank, a lot, though I didn’t realize that until later.

On the day we completed the plumbing work, Bill sent me outside to turn on the water while he stood at the kitchen sink waiting. When I returned inside, I saw the old man filling a glass and excitedly showing his lady what was coming through their pipes — fresh, clean water!

He was so excited.

The next day, I returned to the house with Bill to fix a small leak. Before we went in, we sat in Bill’s car as he drank from a bottle.

“I’ve seen a lot in my life,” Bill told me, “but I’ve never seen anything like what I saw yesterday, when that old man held up that glass of water.”

Then he said, “Tom, you’ve got to find me someone else to help. Can you do that? Can you find me someone to help?”

He was pleading — not for help, but to help.

On that day, I got a glimpse of a tortured but good soul, and felt the presence of a great and giving God.

Tom McDonald is editor of the New Mexico Community News Exchange. Contact him at:

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