the only gift he had

Shoddy tattoos are scrawled over his arms, across his chest, and up onto his neck. The ones that aren’t profane are pornographic, and combined with his shaved head and swagger, it's easy to believe that at 24 years old, Brett has spent more time in prison than he did in high school.

Yet three days ago, Brett—a former gang member—came to my door late at night with the question he had been struggling to ask me for weeks. His over-sized jersey made him somehow look child-like as he stood in the yellow light of our porch lamp, awkwardly steeling his courage with half-hearted small talk. He couldn’t look me in the eye when he finally got around to asking, and when he spoke, he stumbled over his words: “Are you proud of me?”

Brett spent his entire youth in group homes. Dirty carpets, dead-bolted bedroom doors, and communal kitchens were what the world held out for his adolescence, and once he turned 18, he found himself homeless, sleeping in cars, in shelters, and on bus stop benches. Brett has never had a family.

And this time of year is difficult for Brett. It was one year ago that he succumbed to the loneliness and isolation he felt without the support of any meaningful human relationships. He swallowed 28 capsules of prescription medication on the day before Thanksgiving and awoke after two days, a breathing tube scorching his airway and IV's piercing his appendages; his arms were restrained.

Having spent the recent summer months without work, Brett’s diligent search for employment finally bore fruit, and he was able to begin a new job a couple weeks ago. As he awaits his first paycheck, he has received the financial assistance to stay in a motel, but the motel is no substitute for the stability of his own place. And it is lonely. And it is Thanksgiving.

After assuring Brett that indeed I was proud of him, he asked the next question on his list, this time looking directly into my eyes: “Can I spend Thanksgiving with you and your family?” 

The question caught me completely off-guard and sent my mind swimming in all directions. What could I say? 

And then, before I could say anything but after my obvious hesitation, he offered the only gift he had to give: “I could bring the turkey I get from Sacred Heart, that way you don’t have to buy one.”