A Friday in March

As I stood in the doorway, ready to leave, my wife asked me: “Are you bringing Jonatan to the rehab place today?” “That’s the plan,” I replied “but we’ll see what happens.” 

My wife smiled a knowing grin. 

I had already planned to take Jonatan to rehab twice that week. On Monday I had offered to bring him after my English class at Pan de Vida, so after a quick bite to eat at home, I drove over to his mom’s house. After ten minutes or so, his mom showed up and together with a cousin and her baby, we drove part way across town to the house where Jonatan was staying. 

I was pleasantly surprised when he actually showed up at the door, however I wasn’t surprised that he was surprised I was taking him to rehab. Apparently the rehab center was not ready to take him until the next day, but he hadn’t communicated this to his mom, or me. We agreed that early the next morning we would go, after first confirming with the rehab center. 

The next day I didn’t hear anything from Jonatan, and when I asked his mom, she didn’t give me a straight answer. By Thursday, I finally got a call from Jonatan and we agreed that I would bring him the next day, but that I would first meet him at our outreach centre. 

So, after teaching my morning english class, I drove back to our outreach centre and continued my preparation for Sunday. I had told him he could come at 11:00, but by 12:00 I hadn’t heard anything. But I was prepared for that. 

And then, he showed up! We drove back to his mom’s house to collect his things, and then to the house where he was staying so he could say goodbye to his son and his son’s mom. It was approaching 1:00 pm by the time we left and had pulled onto the highway for the forty-five minute drive to the rehab center. 

The drive gave me time to talk to Jonatan about his family, drugs, and God, which meant some mildly erratic driving on my part since I don’t multitask well. I’ve found it is easy to look down on a person stuck in a life of drugs and chaos, but often, once you start talking to them and come to see the full story, their life starts to make a bit more sense. 

In due time, without too much traffic and only one wrong turn we arrived at the rehab centre, located on the edge of a dusty field. I breathed in the smell of dirt and animals, before accompanying Jonatan inside. 

We waited for a while, and then one of the volunteers came over to review the box of personal items Jonatan had brought with him. He pulled out a small white card with a list and started checking off items as he emptied the box. I looked at Jonatan and he looked at me. I was unaware there was a list of required items to bring, without which you could not enter the rehab center. 

At this point another volunteer came over to confirm to us that Jonatan would be accepted, but only once he brought all the correct items, and then he went over the list. 

Apparently three pairs of underwear are not considered sufficient for three months of rehab. And they rejected, with good reason, the blanket Jonatan’s mom gave him, which boasted a big picture of a man and the words: “I hate you Luis.” Shampoo, toothpaste, and socks were also MIA. 

I didn’t feel like driving Jonatan all the way home to collect all the missing items – most of which he probably didn’t have anyway. So, we jumped back into the van and zipped down the highway to find the nearest store. It wasn’t that far away thankfully and in ten minutes we were scouring the aisles of Bodega Aurrera looking for the missing items. 

We found a towel, a toothbrush, shampoo, and a few other items, but we were still missing at least half of the items. Jonatan asked around for the nearest market where we could likely find what we needed, and for cheap. It sounded like a great idea. 

Back in the van; back on the highway. We arrived at the outdoor market after two quick pit stops, one pitstop at another store that didn’t have what we needed, the other pitstop at a pharmacy where Jonatan asked about a medical exam (“What! You need a medical exam?”). 

The tianguis did not look promising. All the vendors were still setting up for the weekend and it looked like slim pickings. Doubt started to creep in. “Well, let’s see what we can find,” I sighed. Jonatan had more hope than I. 

Without too much trouble we bought a pair of Nike knock-offs; a do-it-yourself Covid test; and found out the doctor that does the medical exam at the pharmacy wouldn’t be there for another hour and a half. I also realized I didn’t have enough cash to buy the rest of what we needed. And it was really hot out. 

“Maybe we should give up and go home,” I suggested to Jonatan. He turned to look at me. “If I go home now, I’m afraid I won’t make it back to the rehab center.” 

We started asking around for an ATM so I could withdraw more cash, but there were none located near the market. I googled ATMs and found one a 5 minute drive away. When we arrived a nice policeman told us the ATM was closed for the day. Google help! Google sent me back to the first store we went to, so that’s where we went. 

After twenty minutes in traffic and a good ten minutes more in line for the ATM, I again had cash in hand. Things were looking up. Back to the market we went. 

First on the list were shirts. We had to find shirts without obscenities or pictures of death or scantily clad women. Our options were limited and the first place we stopped at smelled like marijuana and sold a wide variety of shirts that violated the rehab centre’s policy. Jonatan searched for a plain shirt while I stood beside a guy poking a needle through a girl’s tongue for a piercing. 

Jonatan found a shirt. I pointed out the obscenities printed in English on the bottom right corner of the shirt and told him what it roughly translated to. He scolded the shopkeeper, gave the shirt back, and chose another. 

Thankfully pants were easier to find, as well as a blanket and pillow. Only the medical exam remained on the list and thanks to our protracted ATM trip it was now late enough in the afternoon that the doctor had shown up. God has a sneaky way of working things out.  

Now Jonatan just had to wait in line for a good bit and then we’d be golden. While he waited I searched for a washroom (painted almost entirely in black paint) and then a panadería to buy bread for lunch/supper. I returned to the pharmacy to meet Jonatan coming out of the doctor’s office, a medical exam paper held triumphantly in the air – the last check on the list. 

As we drove back to the rehab centre, we talked about what it means to know God, and I reminded him of the time I saw him sporting a t-shirt he received for volunteering at an evangelistic event. Unbreakable Spirit it read. He was also wearing a hat which read, in English, I Love Weed. Knowing God is much more than an outward appearance of religiosity. It has to penetrate to the core of our being and show up in the fruit of our lives. 

As the sun set low on the horizon we arrived at the rehab centre, tired but hopeful. We gathered our purchases, headed inside, and waited for a volunteer to come over and make sure Jonatan had everything from the list. 

Soon enough, Javier came over, checked all the boxes, and gave Jonatan the green light. Javier went over the rules, and later explained how he had entered the rehab centre six years ago, as a drug addict, and now he was serving as one of the directors. God is good. 

I’m praying for a similar ending for Jonatan. He has a long, uphill battle ahead of him, littered with a thousand obstacles ready to trip him up and drag him back into his old life. But stepping into the rehab centre and signing his name on the form is the first step to recovery. Nothing is guaranteed, but it is also true that with God nothing is impossible.