Azharuddin Mohammed Ismail, 10, and his family were living in a deplorable Indian slum until they received a 250-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment this week. Why would that be of interest? He happens to be the child star featured in the 2008 academy award winning movie, Slumdog Millionaire. Not too long after the movie’s release, I read where both of the young child actors featured in the film were still living in dire poverty. It seemed ironic at the time that a movie produced to entertain affluent Americans, which did quite well at the box office, would be unable to support those two children and their families in the most basic way. I have discovered over the years that the relationship of money to a person’s living conditions can be very surprising…In that regard, I was reminded today of an odd phone call that I received one winter afternoon 15 years ago.

In January of 1994, newspapers started collecting on Don’s front porch. Don is actually not his real name, but every aspect of the story I am about to share is very true. Neighbors started worrying about their somewhat reclusive neighbor after a few days, so they called the police. Officer Jones surveyed the collection of newspapers and the uncollected mail, and became immediately concerned. She secured permission from her sergeant to forcibly enter the home, in order to check welfare. The elderly gentleman who lived in the home had been deceased for about two days. He died of natural causes. He lived alone, and his neighbors knew very little about him. Officer Jones had to be certain of his identity. She noticed a collection of church bulletins on his coffee table. That is when she called me. I was the chaplain commander for the Wichita Falls Police Dept. at that time. Officer Jones knew those bulletins came from my church.

I quickly identified Don, but the real work was about to begin. None of us knew very much about him. Where would we begin in the search for next of kin? She started at one end of the house, and I started at the other. We began invading that poor man’s privacy, in a way I hope I never have to do again. We were searching for any clue that might lead us to a relative to notify. After about 20 minutes, I found Don’s last will and testament. I read his will aloud to Officer Jones. His estate was to be left to the church, a childrens’ home, and one other non-profit organization. I just stood in his living room in amazement… I think my police officer friend was a little stunned too…

You see Don’s home was not a pleasant place. It was meagerly furnished. It felt cold and impersonal. Men characteristically are not good housekeepers, and Don was no exception. The house was really just nasty. The funeral home director, who came to remove the body, said it was the worst home he had ever been in before. Officer Jones and I chuckled at his comment, because both of us had been in much worse!

Months later I learned that Don’s will was legitimate. The church received a very large sum of money from his estate, as did the two other non-profit entities. If you had looked at his home, you would have never guessed that he had plenty of cash reserves. I don’t think any of us at church would have deduced that this elderly and very reclusive man had an extremely generous heart. As I recall, he really did not have any friends at church. I had never made the effort to visit him.

I learned some good life lessons that afternoon. Lessons about not judging people by mere appearance… I learned for the first time that there can be a very surprising relationship between money and a person’s living conditions. The old frame house is probably gone by now, but Don’s legacy of generosity still impacts the church today. Oh and by the way…we found his next of kin. After about 45 minutes of feverishly rummaging through his personal effects, Officer Jones found a sheet of notebook paper taped to the wall above the television would read: If anything ever happens to me, contact my brother at this number. She said we were both idiots. I resented that comment! I wonder if Don resented be ignored and chalked off as a reclusive and anti-social old man? I guess I will never know…