My Nana is sitting beside me. For some reason, she’s handing me my phone. Her smile exudes the same love I remember it to be – honest and devout and unconditional. I’m just about to take her hand in mine when I realize my phone alarm is interrupting the moment. Oh yeah, it’s Tuesday and it’s 5 a.m. My Nana hasn’t been with us for over 20 years. The thought makes me want to pull the covers back over my head and find her in my dreams again. I let out a huge sigh of resignation because I know that she is with me, encouraging me to get up and run and pray and think of her along the way. So, I check my email to see what my Runcoach has in store for me today, this Tuesday in December. It’s speed day. As if Tuesdays in December in Colorado aren’t hard enough. Speed days are my greatest challenge, but often result in my biggest feelings of accomplishment. With that thought, I fling the covers off and stumble out of bed.
As I’m lacing up my running shoes and massaging a cranky tendon just below my right ankle bone, I think about my friend Joe. He always seems to remember Tuesday “Speed Days” and often sends me texts of encouragement when he knows I am on the treadmill straining to catch my breath and counting down every second of every quarter-mile repeat. Thanks to Joe, Tuesdays aren’t all that terrible these days. Joe is the kind of friend who seems acutely aware of what people need – emotionally, physically, and spiritually. He’s one of those people who recognizes and accepts his own suffering, which in turn makes him the same person who can understand the suffering of others – and mine.
“You’d have no light to offer me in my moments of darkness if you weren’t so acquainted with the dark yourself.” – Tullian Tchividjian
Me and Joe and a Marathon of Grace
As I start my two-mile warm-up, I am transported back to my third NYC Marathon that took place six weeks ago. I see the most incredible moments of grace flash across the filmstrip of my mind and know that even on the treadmill, with no sunrise in sight, God is whispering to me. Grace showed itself in the presence of Joe, taking the weekend off to meet me at the airport and shuttle me back and forth and care for every minor need. It surrounded me in the form of old and dear friends who inconvenienced themselves to share lunch and dinners with me – making memories and enriching the entire experience. I saw grace in the hearts of the volunteers at the start line and the medics at the finish line. But one of the most incredible moments of grace exposed itself the evening after the race when I was reunited with friends and family for a celebration dinner.
With a full belly and an overflowing heart, I floated out of the restaurant. After saying my goodbyes to my family and friends, Joe and I were approached by a well-dressed, 25-year old man. Although I could sense Joe’s apprehension as he took my elbow, what I found most inspiring was that Joe stopped and gave the man his complete attention. I was intrigued, but not surprised. Clearly nervous and ashamed, the young man said, “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. I’m not here to sell you anything. Just hoping you might take a look at my resume and maybe pass it along. I’m a chef and I lost my job and I’ve been out of work for too long now. I’m out of money and out of options. My daughter is only four and I worry about how I’m going to feed her.”
I took his resume and immediately felt compelled to ask Jerard Iamunno, from the Bronx, about his daughter and his life. He was open and honest about his current condition and his brokenness. I was drawn to his humbled heart, as was Joe who put his hand on the man’s shoulder, looked him squarely in the eye, and said, “It’s going to be okay.” Reaching into his wallet, Joe said ever-so-gently, “Here’s everything I have and if I had more I would gladly give it to you.” Jerard said, “I can’t take this. It’s too much. I just need a little to get back on my feet. Some people just give me their leftovers from dinner. Even if you just take my resume and pass it along, I’d be grateful.”
At that moment, I saw God’s grace in the very human person of Joe. It wasn’t in his actions, but in his spirit – his faith and his tenderness. “Please take it. Sometimes we all need a little something to get us back on our feet. I know some people in the hospitality industry and will do what I can to get a few connections lined up.” Then Joe proceeded to talk to Jerard as if he were a colleague or a friend – with enthusiasm, care, and genuine respect.
The surreal scene depicted the beauty and honesty of God’s grace flowing through us and to others in the most unlikely moments. Well, to us, they seem like unlikely moments. But, standing in the cold on the avenue near Times Square reminded me of the lyrics by The Fray, “I found God on the corner of First and Amistad.” Maybe that’s the song Jerard was reminded of as we said our goodbyes and wished him well. Maybe this unlikely moment did something to his heart – or his faith. Maybe this was the start of something amazing for this young man and his little girl Sophia. Maybe this was not an unlikely moment after all.
The filmstrip of my mind is interrupted by heavy breathing and sweat dripping into my eye. I look down and realize that I’ve made it through all but one of my half-mile repeats. The memories of Joe and Jerard are so vivid and beautiful in my head today. But, I know that for many, this wouldn’t be a beautiful story. It would seem sad and futile and many would believe we were just naïve out there on the street getting sucked into Jerard’s “con.” But I see beauty in the most unlikely places – in the hard, the sad, and the desperate. God created me this way – this emotional mess who can cry with a stranger and feel myself quickly slipping into their shoes.
To me, seeing the human experience this way is a blessing. Without this perspective, I don’t think I would see the people, like Joe, who have been placed in my path to show me love and guide me and help me see that which I may have been incapable of seeing before – like young Jerard who may have just needed someone to show him a little grace on that cold, windy November evening.
Jerard Iamunno is looking for a position in the hospitality industry in the NYC area. His email is IamunnoJerard@yahoo.com.
