Dog in a Cat Family

Writing about depression, I recalled a case from around 1987. It doesn't illustrate anything I just wrote about particularly, it's just interesting. 

A man in his late 30's came in, a biker who had attempted suicide. He was extremely discouraged over the first 48 hours, and we were concerned. That age and cultural fit usually bounced back quickly, maybe too quickly, insisting that nothing was really wrong and we were treating him unfairly and keeping him from his life by holding him. Those folks are generally okay for quite a while.  There is usually a next time, because denying reality often has payback, but I had already read a few histories of people who has depression and suicide attempts every ten or fifteen years, but were generally able to hold jobs, have friends, raise families. But this guy was a first attempt at 37, lucky he didn't die, and not arguing with us about leaving.

It's an open question whether the Holy Spirit was speaking through me on this one. His wife visited and I had a family meeting to meet her and discuss the future. He asked her rather plaintively "Did any of the Disciples call?"  No, she had to say.  Mark's wife had called, but none of the guys in his club. 

"I've been thinking,"  I said, which was a lie, because I had not had this thought until that very moment. Can the Holy Spirit lead off with a lie like that?  It doesn't sound right, y'know? On the other hand, it felt like no thought of mine and it eventually worked.  And perhaps one could stretch a point and say I had been thinking it in the last few seconds, anyway, or that it was just a manner of speaking to soften any possible lecturing tone. You be the judge. "I don't think you're a motorcycle guy.  You just don't feel like one.  You feel more like a classic cars guy." His wife looked surprised, and said directly to him "Well, the only other people who have called were Jerry and Tom.  And your sister." He nodded, as if considering.

I looked back and forth between the two of them. "Am I right in thinking that Jerry and Tom are classic car guys?" He nodded again. "Maybe I've just been a dog in a cat family."  It was a good saying, and I've kept it. It doesn't say that dogs are bad or cats are bad, just that they aren't in the same family. "I used to be more of a classic cars guy. I've still got a lot of the tools." The next day he told me that he'd already had good offers on both his bikes. He was chipper, upbeat. I told him not to burn his bridges behind him and to say nice things to the Disciples he had ridden with.

I saw him almost a decade later at a downtown road rally with his 1958 Chevy Impala. He recognised me before I did him.  We had a nice conversation and I told him to say hello to his wife for me. There was no Great Moment, no movie-version Heartfelt Thanks or anything like that.  It would have seemed embarrassing to both of us, I think. I was glad that he looked okay.

I don't usually think of the Holy Spirit operating in terms of "what kind of guy are you?" But, well, suicidal.  And it worked.  And I swear those thoughts were not anything of mine.  I still don't know what I'd mean by a biker versus a classic cars guy.