3 minute read
Reflection
Major Richard Durrant looks back at a corps appointment and recalls his encounters with Taffy
LAST month I wrote about Cooky – one of the ‘friends’ who would gather in the parking area behind the hall at one of my corps appointments. Taffy was another regular rough sleeper we would see there most days. He was a fascinating character, telling stories of how he had been a mercenary in Beirut, among other places, and a bare-knuckle fighter.
Others would substantiate his stories, which did appear to have a ring of truth about them, yet despite this violent background Taffy was a charming, gentle man in all his encounters with us and with most other people. He was also quite clever; he was able to spend most winters in warmth and relative comfort at Her Majesty’s pleasure and the summers sleeping rough in the city centre.
I recall chatting to him one day in October, when the weather was beginning to turn, and he declared he was going to get himself locked up for the winter. Sure enough, later that day I heard he had been arrested for robbing a nearby off-licence and using threatening behaviour in the process. No one was hurt, but it was enough to get him locked up for six months. He was an exemplary prisoner and a trusty, so his time inside was not too bad.
This life, though, was not easy to sustain as age caught up with him, and one day there was an exciting development. An outreach worker had met with Taffy and nominated him to be allocated a brand new flat in a nearby town. My wife, Heather, accompanied him and the worker to view the flat, and he agreed it would be great to move into. Within a couple of weeks he did,
and the corps provided him with bedding, crockery, cutlery and other items.
However, a couple of days later, we saw him at the back of our hall with the other rough sleepers. It seemed apparent from his demeanour and attire that he was no longer in his new flat. We went to chat to him and his reply saddened us. ‘M’lady,’ he said (that’s how he would address Heather), ‘I’m not worthy.’ It would seem that this lovely flat did not fit in with his perception of what was right for him and what he had been used to for so many years. He also, of course, had friends among the rough sleepers, who provided a network of support, even with their problems.
His statement was food for thought. We need to make everyone feel valued and important, because that is how God sees us all. Jesus said in John 10:10, ‘I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’ Yet, sadly, there are many people with empty lives who perhaps don’t feel worthy of being helped back on their feet. May God help us to value the people we meet.
Our final meeting at the corps produced a sequel to the story: we had just said farewell to everyone and in walked Taffy. ‘Major and M’lady,’ he said, ‘I’ve come on behalf of the lads to say thank you for your help and support during your time here.’ That little visit and his statement meant more to us than any other farewells that day. Despite all he’d been through, he was there, encouraging us. May we learn to help each other – sometimes, that means helping each other up when we are down!
