I took this picture in October 2017, long before COVID-19. Now I’m thinking about the Tuesday Guys, love, and the coronavirus.

The photo captured a truly beautiful moment, and I was lucky enough to realize I needed to snap the shot. Marv, the stud on the left, was attempting to install a door stop on the north doors of our Joshua Station community room.

As I walked into the hallway, I found Marv on his knees flustered and bleeding. The door he was working on has a 1/8-inch-thick stainless steel kick plate right where the doorstop needed to go. Three broken drill bits lay on the ground. One of the attempts ended poorly after the bit broke and dug into Marv’s thumb. Look at the photo closely, and you’ll see the gash. Blood-soaked paper towels lay scattered on the floor. “I have to put so much pressure on this drill to get through this metal that the bits are just snapping,” Marv said, his voice raising an octave in frustration. He was at that breaking point in construction when the body and the tools and the task are not matching up, and his frustration was escalating. I could see his hands were shaking.

As Marv blotted his wound with a paper towel and started to install another bit into his drill, I found myself literally frozen in place – not knowing how to help. Do I ask to give it a try? No, that could hurt his feelings. Plus, if Marv can’t do something around here, no one can. Should I pull him off the task and say we’ll get a different doorstop that’s easier to mount? No, I know Marv doesn’t give up that easily.

As I sat there pondering some way to help the situation, I heard John come in behind me. Within a fraction of a second, he knew what to do. He dropped to his worn plumber knees right next to Marv. Marv’s new bit was now ready to go. Without saying a single word, John grabbed the drill along with Marv and four weathered bloody hands helped keep it steady enough to get through that steel plate. Finally, success! But there was so much more to that moment. I could feel it. It’s why I took the picture. It’s love in action. It’s intimate, and caring, and everything that is special about this life to me.

John and Marv (then in their mid-sixties and mostly retired) started coming to Joshua Station when we first bought the dilapidated hotel in 2001. They were part of the team of volunteers that gutted the 30,000 sq. ft. building, installed new bathrooms, built kitchenettes, and installed new doors and windows. When the work was finished after a couple of years, they banded together with a few guys and said they wanted to work on the maintenance of the building. They became known as our Tuesday Guys. Every Tuesday at 9 am they are here. Their steadiness and quiet resolve to serve makes them one of our biggest inspirations.

Now in their mid-eighties, the Tuesday guys are still going strong – even as they sadly are missing a few of their key members. As they have aged, I have noticed even more teamwork among them. The last couple of years they mostly just work together. I don’t believe anything was ever said. These independent resourceful men simply need each other and look out for each other.

For the time being, the coronavirus precautions have taken away intimate moments like this picture shows. Seeing John bend down that close to Marv would probably freak me out (yes, they are sheltering in place right now). I cannot even watch a movie without wondering why actors are putting their hands near their mouth or not maintaining proper distancing. It’s already ingrained in me! I desperately long to see moments like this once again… but wait, I am! The physical closeness is not there, but everything else that makes this photo special to me is there. Now it’s not only Marv and John – its Joshua Station and it’s you!

Without saying a word you have knelt beside us during this crisis. Trust me, we were flustered and scared and a little bit bloody and this virus has seemed like an impenetrable thick piece of steel. But you showed up! You came close without saying a word or needing praise, and steadied the drill. You did this by providing meals and food for our residents. You did this by writing checks. You knew how to help and you cared enough to take action. Through our front desk glass windows, maintaining distancing precautions, we saw you coming and dropping food off and it boosted our spirits. You had a steady look in your eyes. We noticed. We think it was love. We can feel it. It’s everything good about all of us.

When we had to shut our kitchen down, our families felt defeated. Now, our families can sit down and enjoy special moments together over a warm meal each evening. Within their own families, they enjoy the physical closeness shown in the picture of Marv and John, and we are all there in spirit.

Thank you for not staying frozen in place! Thank you for being great teammates! Thank you for loving our community well! This time I am taking a mental picture. Y’all look good!