Becoming a Stranger’s Emergency Contact
About five years ago, I was helping a new friend who was desperately looking for a job. He lives with severe mental illness and struggles to find meaningful employment, so it had been years since he was employed. Thankfully, a small monthly SSDI check covers basic housing bills but not much else. It was obvious that my friend - I’ll call him Fred - wanted to work for several reasons:
to have some extra spending money for things like eating at a restaurant, buying gifts for those he cared about, and paying for “extra things” like a bus pass or cell phone
to have something to occupy some of his time
to feel a sense of purpose and meaning
Fred is passionate about plants and landscaping, so that was one of the first areas of work he wanted to focus on. He collected some applications, called around town and spoke with some companies, and would stop anyone on a mower that he saw, asking if they had some extra work for him to do.
He asked if I could help him fill out the applications, and I said, “Let’s meet up and talk more about it.” I wanted to see which parts he was able to do on his own and where I could assist. We met at the church a couple days later. He brought along a couple of applications and spoke with a tone of desperation, saying he really wanted a job and to find work. He asked if I would be a reference for him and pointed out that he had cleaned up around the church, and I could say good things about him.
I told him I’d be happy to serve as a reference for him. He explained that he was very qualified both with his educational background and work experience, so he should have no trouble finding a job. I knew he could be good at something related to landscaping, since I’d seen him tend to some plant beds at the church as well as redo an overgrown hill at his apartment complex. (He didn’t have permission to change the landscaping at the apartment, but when Fred saw something out of place and he had the means to improve it, he often did.) I also knew that Fred has trouble interacting with others, so a task-centered role would be best.
What I can never forget from this whole interaction is when we got to the section on emergency contacts. I asked, “Who should be your emergency contact?”
Fred responded, “Would you be willing to?”
I stopped. I hadn’t been phased when he called and asked if I’d help him fill out the forms. It made sense to me to be one of his references since I had seen some of his skill in action. But I was not aware that I was one of the only people in his life he could count on.
“Me for your emergency contact also?” I said, still a little stunned. “Yes, of course.” I helped him come up with one other person as well to list in that section of the application.
That interaction has lingered with me these last five years. How was there no one else? No family? No college roommate? No neighbor? No other friends? I’d only known him for about a year, and yet I was the one he would turn to during an emergency.
Those moments were a small window into the loneliness and isolation that Fred felt every single day. I had no idea how much of a gap I was filling for him, and I was only beginning to see what a day in his shoes could feel like. In only a year, I had gone from meeting a complete stranger to becoming his best friend. Fred and I are still really good friends, and he has changed me in so many ways for the better.
I’m honored to be launching into a season of life that will help me cross paths with many more Freds in this world, each with their own name and story. Each with their own set of circumstances that have caused them to be isolated and alone in this world. Each with their own dreams and desires. I’m so thankful that Fred reached out and asked for help, and part of our vision for A Faithful Presence is to place ourselves in a community where people know they have someone to call on. Because we all need an emergency contact.