Lucky Waldo

Waldo Henderson is an intense spirit. He and I meet in the Chapel of a hospital where he works as a Chaplain. His shift is from 4pm to 7am the next morning. When we first met, I thought he was shy and unassuming. Later, I learned from experience; he is loud and bombastic (His own words).

He has survived HIV, drug and alcohol addiction, the death of his Mother and lung cancer, in that order. You wouldn’t know this from his demeanor. Behind the smile, he has had a hard life. However, he’s not living in the past, but looking forward to a bright future.

His life and identity are defined by religion. As a boy, he attended Catholic schools. After high school, he drifted away from the church and God. His early college years were filled with drinking, partying and radical politics. Soon, he spiraled out of control and dropped out of college.

Back in Birmingham, Al., he stopped drinking, got a job and began living a life of sorts. Then in 1989, he was diagnosed with HIV. He wasn’t sick or symptomatic, but just decided to have a test, not thinking he would test positive. But he was, and quickly suffered a nervous breakdown. Back then, there was not a treatment. In effect, he was told to go home and die.

He says: “I lost my mind thinking 24 hours a day about death, dying and why me? I decided if I’m gonna die, I might as well go out with a bang and started heavily drinking and using cocaine. I soon became an out of control addict. But, at least, I stopped thinking about dying, because I didn’t give a damn. After several years I woke up and realized, I was not dead. That’s when I decided to go to rehab. I went a total of 3 separate times, but could not stay sober.”

In desperation, he approached an older man and wanted to know why he couldn’t get or stay sober. The man asked him if he had a higher power. He said no, and asked how he could get one. The man told him to look for God where he had left him. So he returned to St. Francis Catholic Church and  decided to search for his higher power there. He says, after many weeks, one day God spoke to him through the words of scripture. He became convinced God was real and was looking for him.

After this spiritual experience, he decided to dedicate his life to serving God, and he was eventually ordained as a deacon. Life was good until his mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and died in 2006. Once again, his life was out of control. Drinking and drugging returned. Fast forward to 2017, he is diagnosed with lung cancer.

Waldo comes to realize that his definition of work and Faith reveals his solution to a tough life that is strongly connected to his Higher power.

Waldo explains: “The big book says faith without works is dead. Right? That’s straight out of the book of James. So my hope is dependent on my work. I do have hope, but I also feel like it has to be met with action. And I’ve come to this conclusion because God, to me, is not an ATM machine.”

“God, to me, is not an ATM machine”! This phrase hits me like a hammer. Though I don’t personally pray to “God”, I know what he means instinctually. Asking for stuff in my prayers and meditation has always seemed narcissistic to me. I believe that the work and action is what sustains a meaningful life. Give more than you take! But in his work there are more difficult emotional challenges than most.

While listening to stories about his hospital counciling as a Pastor, he recounts:

“One time a man was found dead in a field. He had been in a drug house that was being raided. He ran out, collapsed and actually died in that field. But the paramedics got to him quickly and he was revived. This man never regained consciousness and was declared brain dead at the hospital. Well, I was with the father and he’s grieving because they had had a tortured relationship. So of course the father’s feeling bad about the fact that he had not been there for his son and should have protected him. I’m not a doctor. So I’m not allowed to give a death notification. I couldn’t tell the father that his son was already dead. The doctor has to do that. And the doctor was so slow about coming, you know, and I wanted to tell him, but I just couldn’t. When the doctor came to tell him, the father said, you knew he was dead all along and refused to tell me. Oh, he cussed me out. He really lit into me. And all I could do is just stand there and say, I’m sorry.

Waldo told me this about another situation involving a woman who had died of alcoholism and how he met with the family:

“I felt like I did everything correct. As a minister, I did everything. Correct. Except for one thing I forgot to say to the family; ‘this is not your fault’. I regret that. I should have said, this is not your fault.”

What Waldo does in counciling in those dramatic moments requires empathy, but also an awareness of how to learn, grow and to make his words of conciliation resonate. I have no doubt that the phrase “This is not your fault” will comfort many in the future.

Going back to his relationship with God, Waldo explains:

“I have decided to stop fighting God, because apparently he wants me to stay around for some reason. And so I said, I hear you. Whatever you want me to do, I’m going to do it. God has been good to me. I ain’t at the end of all this. And I am one of the lucky ones.”

Lucky Waldo indeed!