Well, it's been a month since I've written about these trips. I've only missed going once (my car was in the shop), but with a teenage daughter home on summer vacation you end up doing a lot of driving (and you don't get much computer time either). A couple of weeks ago I had an encounter with Frank. I had never met him before and this trip was on a Sunday evening (July 3rd). He was on North Main St standing about 30 yards back from the street. This is the same place where the two Cuban men live and where Isavel and Javier were. Anyway, I drove back to where he was standing by his blanket and stuff. He had a beer in his hand and looked like a hippie from the 60's except he was about 30 years old. I asked him if he could use some food. His response took me by surprise. He asked me, "You're not from the church are you?" He said it in a very derrogatory way. He later told me that the food he gets from 'church people' is usually not very good! I think he prefers fast food burgers and fries. He also said he can get food down at the missions. I reminded him that to get food at the missions he has to stand in line for a long time. He told me he 'hated that part about the missions.' He ended up taking the food, but it was somewhat shocking to hear his opinion of the church and it's people. I wish that I had an opportunity to do that encounter over, perhaps I'll see Frank again. I think if we have a chance to get to know each other, maybe that will help his image of 'church people'.
This week's trip had a couple of encounters of note. One was with John Stokes and David who live under the I-10 freeway near Olympic and Alameda. I asked how things were going there during the summer. They told me the flies are bad during the day and then the mosquitos come out at night and make life miserable. Apparently, there is about a two hour period at dawn and at dusk where there is a break from both. I told them about a bad experience I had when I was 15 years old with mosquitos in Arkansas. As it turns out, David is from Minnesota and he told me that the mosquito is the 'unofficial' state bird there!
During my trip this last Monday I took a break at the Jack in the Box. I had seen Alphonzo sitting outside on some grass. Well, when I ordered lunch I got an extra burger and gave it to him before I ate. Then as I was leaving I saw a man pushing his shopping cart on the sidewalk. I was walking to my car at this point and so I waited to see if he was going to come into the parking lot. In just a little bit he came up to where I was and I said, "Hey, I have something for you." He had a few recyclables in he cart and thought I had some more for him. He asked if I had cans or plastic. He 'might' have had a dollars worth of cans and plastic bottles in his cart. You can imagine his surprise when I gave him a bag of food and showed him what was in it. He was so thankful. I can only imagine how it must feel to be hungry and homeless with no money and pass by a fast food place where you know there is plenty of food and not be able to eat there. This man's name was Tony (probably Antonio). Tony spoke English with a heavy accent, so I don't know if he can read English very well or not. I hope he can, because in the bags of food I put a short two-sentence hand-written note. I changed one of the lines recently so it now reads, "To you-My loved one. I never stopped loving you! --Jesus" The food and the clothes will all pass away quickly. My hope is the words will with stay with them forever! (Yes, Frank got the same note in his bag too). Until next week. John
PS. I ran across this quote from a book titled "Dare to Dream" by Mattheus van der Steen. For those with a hope or a dream to someday find a way to serve God, perhaps this will encourage you. Speaking about the Holy Spirit he writes..."Jesus Christ is the One who will give you whatever you need and will anoint you to do the things He has asked and expects you to do to achieve your God-given purpose.".... Here's to finding your God-given purpose.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Downtown 6/27/2011
As you know, each trip downtown is different. Last week I felt led to get off the freeway at Santa Fe Ave and this week I felt led to go straight down to Cloud 9 Alley. When I parked on Los Angeles St I noticed across the street the shopping cart of a homeless person, although I didn't see anyone due to all the cars parked on the street. There is a high school on the other side of the street from Pastor Rodriguez's church. Well, I walked across the street there and saw the man who's cart I saw. He was lying down on the sidewalk. Turns out his name was Ruben and he had attended that high school some thirty years ago. He has pretty much always stayed in the area. We talked for awhile about the area and some of the people I knew around there. For the last few weeks, until Monday, someone had a tent set up on the sidewalk near the corner. I had tried to find out who was living in the tent, but now it was gone. He told me a man named Pancho was in there, but a couple of days prior to Monday they made him move on. I told Ruben about the Pastor Rodriguez's church there and that they would probably help him out from time to time if he needed it. He told me he had walked by it before and they asked him to come in but he didn't go. I urged him to go see them, they could help in more ways than one. In the alley behind the church I found Ray and we got to talk for probably 20 or 25 minutes. He told me he'd been looking for me each Sunday to stop by. Well, I have gone by there each Sunday, but didn't always announce myself if I didn't think anyone was there. He lives in an unused doorway to a building, covered up with blankets and pallets. Monday, I actually did call out to him. He was pretty happy to see me. He said, "I've been wondering when my 'boy' was going to come by again (He's about 10 years younger than me-the term 'boy' indicates close friendship)." He told me that our conversations are on a far deeper level than any that he has with anyone else! I was glad that he look's forward to our visits. At one point he looked in the bag of food I gave him and commented about how much he liked the bread. He told me the last loaf lasted him 4 days and he ate every slice.
I drove around skid row for awhile after this, but couldn't find a place to park by the police station, so I left the area and headed towards the Jack in the Box by Alameda. A couple of blocks away from there I saw Alan (hadn't seen him in quite awhile). He was sitting on the sidewalk eating something and when I called out to him he immediately came over to the car. Remember Alan doesn't ever say a word. I knew that whatever he was eating he probably got out of a dumpster, so I have him a bag of food and told him to remember that I loved him. He gave me a faint smile as he turned to walk away. At the Jack in the Box I found John Stokes opening doors for people. I took a couple of pictures of him at the door. He told me, for once he didn't need anything (he was wearing the jeans and shirt I had given him last week). Then he said, "Hey, do you have any of that spagetti?" Along with the chunky beef soup I put in the bags I often give out some cans of beef ravioli.
By mistake, I often pick up cans of spagetti because they look just like the cans of ravioli. Apparently, John had gotten one and he loved it. I had six cans in the car and sure enough, one was actually a can of spagetti. It made his day.
The next encounter was a few blocks from the Jack in the Box with a man named Phil. I had met him last week, but I wasn't sure if it was the first time or not. Anyway, you never know what to expect from one of these encounters and this one was quite unique. Phil is 52 years old and has been homeless for the last 12 years (4 of them in the San Diego area). He is quite articulate. During the course of our 30 plus minute conversation he explained that he is actually content with his place in life. He really works at recycling every day and provides nicely for himself by doing it. He told me that for over a year he paid a $100 a month for a storage unit that was filled with stuff from the floor to the ceiling that he had collected. He had ipads, iphones, dvd's and dvd players. Eventually, it got to be too much of a hassle to travel (with his carts) to the storage unit so he let it go. He told me he had made $31 recycling so far this day and with no overhead he was doing OK. He also said something interesting. He said his health insurance was the exercise he gets pushing his carts around every day! He did look pretty good. In fact, when I came up to him he was sewing up some clothes! I don't think I've ever seen a homeless person doing that before. He then started asking me about how and why I came down there. Needless to say, we got to know each other pretty well by the time we parted. Although he definitely knows my trips downtown are of a spiritual nature, he didn't want me to pray for him. During our conversation he did refer to several verses in the bible so I know he has had some training in that regard in his past. I'll take my time with Phil. We'll see where it leads.
By now it was time to head to the skid row area. Along the way, I was able to help two men. Both were sleeping on the sidewalk with very little. One of the men was unable to speak, I'm not sure why. The other man I almost missed because he was sleeping behind a chain link fence with a lot of leaves and trash around him (see photo). His name was Mario. I took two pictures of him, but I guess I forgot to save the second one (which was a closer picture). However, I'm sure you get the idea of his condition. Both of these men are the other end of the spectrum from
Phil! Mario said his 'stuff' had been stolen. Luckily, I had put a jacket in the trunk that morning. I probably won't get too many requests for jackets in the next couple of months, but after Mario put the jacket on, he said he had been cold the night before.
On the way to skid row I drove so that I could see if Jerry (the guy with one eye who sits at 7th & Los Angeles St) was there. I didn't see him, but along the way on 7th I saw a young woman about 30 years old sitting on the sidewalk about a block or two from where Jerry sits. She was sitting on her back pack and was about as dirty and skinny as they come. I drove around the block again in hopes of getting a picture of her as I drove by, but didn't see her the second time around. I drove on down 7th and parked and walked back to where she had been. I took a couple cans of food in a bag to give to her. I never did see her again. This area is actually a retail section on 7th Ave, about two or three blocks from the skid row area. I ended up prayer-walking the area and when I got back to the car there was a parking ticket waiting for me. I got one a while back when my schedule changed and I started going on a Mondays again instead of a Sunday. The same streets where you can park on a Sunday are no parking zones on Mondays.--Great! The things you learn on the streets (literally on the streets in this case). Until next week. John
I drove around skid row for awhile after this, but couldn't find a place to park by the police station, so I left the area and headed towards the Jack in the Box by Alameda. A couple of blocks away from there I saw Alan (hadn't seen him in quite awhile). He was sitting on the sidewalk eating something and when I called out to him he immediately came over to the car. Remember Alan doesn't ever say a word. I knew that whatever he was eating he probably got out of a dumpster, so I have him a bag of food and told him to remember that I loved him. He gave me a faint smile as he turned to walk away. At the Jack in the Box I found John Stokes opening doors for people. I took a couple of pictures of him at the door. He told me, for once he didn't need anything (he was wearing the jeans and shirt I had given him last week). Then he said, "Hey, do you have any of that spagetti?" Along with the chunky beef soup I put in the bags I often give out some cans of beef ravioli.
By mistake, I often pick up cans of spagetti because they look just like the cans of ravioli. Apparently, John had gotten one and he loved it. I had six cans in the car and sure enough, one was actually a can of spagetti. It made his day.
The next encounter was a few blocks from the Jack in the Box with a man named Phil. I had met him last week, but I wasn't sure if it was the first time or not. Anyway, you never know what to expect from one of these encounters and this one was quite unique. Phil is 52 years old and has been homeless for the last 12 years (4 of them in the San Diego area). He is quite articulate. During the course of our 30 plus minute conversation he explained that he is actually content with his place in life. He really works at recycling every day and provides nicely for himself by doing it. He told me that for over a year he paid a $100 a month for a storage unit that was filled with stuff from the floor to the ceiling that he had collected. He had ipads, iphones, dvd's and dvd players. Eventually, it got to be too much of a hassle to travel (with his carts) to the storage unit so he let it go. He told me he had made $31 recycling so far this day and with no overhead he was doing OK. He also said something interesting. He said his health insurance was the exercise he gets pushing his carts around every day! He did look pretty good. In fact, when I came up to him he was sewing up some clothes! I don't think I've ever seen a homeless person doing that before. He then started asking me about how and why I came down there. Needless to say, we got to know each other pretty well by the time we parted. Although he definitely knows my trips downtown are of a spiritual nature, he didn't want me to pray for him. During our conversation he did refer to several verses in the bible so I know he has had some training in that regard in his past. I'll take my time with Phil. We'll see where it leads.
By now it was time to head to the skid row area. Along the way, I was able to help two men. Both were sleeping on the sidewalk with very little. One of the men was unable to speak, I'm not sure why. The other man I almost missed because he was sleeping behind a chain link fence with a lot of leaves and trash around him (see photo). His name was Mario. I took two pictures of him, but I guess I forgot to save the second one (which was a closer picture). However, I'm sure you get the idea of his condition. Both of these men are the other end of the spectrum from
Phil! Mario said his 'stuff' had been stolen. Luckily, I had put a jacket in the trunk that morning. I probably won't get too many requests for jackets in the next couple of months, but after Mario put the jacket on, he said he had been cold the night before.
On the way to skid row I drove so that I could see if Jerry (the guy with one eye who sits at 7th & Los Angeles St) was there. I didn't see him, but along the way on 7th I saw a young woman about 30 years old sitting on the sidewalk about a block or two from where Jerry sits. She was sitting on her back pack and was about as dirty and skinny as they come. I drove around the block again in hopes of getting a picture of her as I drove by, but didn't see her the second time around. I drove on down 7th and parked and walked back to where she had been. I took a couple cans of food in a bag to give to her. I never did see her again. This area is actually a retail section on 7th Ave, about two or three blocks from the skid row area. I ended up prayer-walking the area and when I got back to the car there was a parking ticket waiting for me. I got one a while back when my schedule changed and I started going on a Mondays again instead of a Sunday. The same streets where you can park on a Sunday are no parking zones on Mondays.--Great! The things you learn on the streets (literally on the streets in this case). Until next week. John
Monday, June 20, 2011
Downtown 6/20/2011-The last day of Spring
"Without asking God for love, we cannot possess love and still less are we able to give it to others."
Another simple, yet profound quote from a collection of quotes from Mother Teresa in a book titled, Everything Starts with Prayer. I was given this remarkable little book yesterday as a Father's Day present. About six years ago I had the opportunity to go on a short-term missions trip. When I returned everything was somehow different. I saw things through different eyes. My heart had changed. I began to ask God where I was to "aim" this great experience I had been given. I started praying for Him to give me a 'heart for the lost'. A few months later I was given a video on prayer-walking which I not only watched 3 times, I also took notes. I decided it was something I could do. For some reason, I now also had an insatiable desire to read books about missionaries. Missionaries from the past, missionaries in this day, missionaries to primitive cultures, our culture, distant cultures, it didn't matter where or when, I simply couldn't get enough of them to read. I started to notice they all had something in common. Their mission work was dependent upon God and prayer. I kept on praying to receive this heart for the lost. I remember one morning in early January shortly after I had began regularly prayer-walking in the area near our church. My father-in-law was suffering through the final stages of cancer. On my nights off from working I would sit with him. This particular morning while prayer-walking I was struck with the idea of how many others in the homes that I was walking by were going through a similar experience. I started to feel very uneasy about it because I knew there had to be others going through the same thing. Then it suddenly struck me, "Well, what about people going through divorce? How about financial problems or relationships with the kids or kids with their parents?" I started to get in a real panic about the many problems that each of these homes might represent. Could it be 30% or 50% of the homes I was prayer-walking by were in some sort of crisis? It might even be more than that! How was I going to reach into each of these homes?"
You begin to see how the line above from Mother Teresa caught my attention! Not only that line, "Without asking God for love (that heart for the lost I was looking for), we cannot possess it or be able to give it to others.", but also the title of the book, "Everything starts with prayer". If you want to see changes in your life or changes in your heart, start praying about it. So today, this morning, as I took off for downtown, it was with this heightened sense of heart for others and a desire to just give out God's love and care for the people I was to meet. I really can't describe how eager and expectant I was to get started. As I approached downtown I felt led to get off at Santa Fe Ave. It's an exit I rarely get off at. When you take this exit, you have two options, either Mateo St or Santa Fe. For some reason I chose the Mateo exit. As soon as I chose that direction, I saw a homeless man about halfway down the ramp from the stop sign. As I pulled up in the line of cars and trucks, the line stopped where I was right next to this guy (and he was on the driver side too), his name was Doug. This started a day where every single encounter was met with probably the most appreciative responses I've ever received in one visit. The next guy I met was Doug, from St Louis. I had given him some food, but when I asked if he needed some water, you would have thought he just won the lottery. I'm going to have to get used to the fact that now that it's summer, water is going to be more needed than ever. The last guy I met before I came home was a man named Phil. I guess I've met him before, but I didn't really recognize him. Apparently, he has declined my help before because he said, "I'm not turning down your help today." He was escpecially needful today. What a blessing to have been able to be there for these people today. --Until next week. John
P.S. Sorry about the "I-itis" in the first paragraph. I didn't know how else to explain my identification with the passage and the book. It is a remarkable little book. So many of the homeless people I meet are simply lonely in addition to their poverty. They long for someone to just listen to them. I'll end with another short quote from this book:
"I remember some time ago I visited a very wonderful home for old people. There were about forty there and they had everything, but they were all looking towards the door. There was not a smile on their faces, and I asked the sister in charge of them, 'Sister, why are these people not smiling? Why are they looking towards the door?' And she, very beautifully, had to answer and give the truth: 'It's the same every day. They are longing for someone to come and visit them.' This is great poverty!"
---Mother Teresa, "Everything starts with Prayer
Another simple, yet profound quote from a collection of quotes from Mother Teresa in a book titled, Everything Starts with Prayer. I was given this remarkable little book yesterday as a Father's Day present. About six years ago I had the opportunity to go on a short-term missions trip. When I returned everything was somehow different. I saw things through different eyes. My heart had changed. I began to ask God where I was to "aim" this great experience I had been given. I started praying for Him to give me a 'heart for the lost'. A few months later I was given a video on prayer-walking which I not only watched 3 times, I also took notes. I decided it was something I could do. For some reason, I now also had an insatiable desire to read books about missionaries. Missionaries from the past, missionaries in this day, missionaries to primitive cultures, our culture, distant cultures, it didn't matter where or when, I simply couldn't get enough of them to read. I started to notice they all had something in common. Their mission work was dependent upon God and prayer. I kept on praying to receive this heart for the lost. I remember one morning in early January shortly after I had began regularly prayer-walking in the area near our church. My father-in-law was suffering through the final stages of cancer. On my nights off from working I would sit with him. This particular morning while prayer-walking I was struck with the idea of how many others in the homes that I was walking by were going through a similar experience. I started to feel very uneasy about it because I knew there had to be others going through the same thing. Then it suddenly struck me, "Well, what about people going through divorce? How about financial problems or relationships with the kids or kids with their parents?" I started to get in a real panic about the many problems that each of these homes might represent. Could it be 30% or 50% of the homes I was prayer-walking by were in some sort of crisis? It might even be more than that! How was I going to reach into each of these homes?"
You begin to see how the line above from Mother Teresa caught my attention! Not only that line, "Without asking God for love (that heart for the lost I was looking for), we cannot possess it or be able to give it to others.", but also the title of the book, "Everything starts with prayer". If you want to see changes in your life or changes in your heart, start praying about it. So today, this morning, as I took off for downtown, it was with this heightened sense of heart for others and a desire to just give out God's love and care for the people I was to meet. I really can't describe how eager and expectant I was to get started. As I approached downtown I felt led to get off at Santa Fe Ave. It's an exit I rarely get off at. When you take this exit, you have two options, either Mateo St or Santa Fe. For some reason I chose the Mateo exit. As soon as I chose that direction, I saw a homeless man about halfway down the ramp from the stop sign. As I pulled up in the line of cars and trucks, the line stopped where I was right next to this guy (and he was on the driver side too), his name was Doug. This started a day where every single encounter was met with probably the most appreciative responses I've ever received in one visit. The next guy I met was Doug, from St Louis. I had given him some food, but when I asked if he needed some water, you would have thought he just won the lottery. I'm going to have to get used to the fact that now that it's summer, water is going to be more needed than ever. The last guy I met before I came home was a man named Phil. I guess I've met him before, but I didn't really recognize him. Apparently, he has declined my help before because he said, "I'm not turning down your help today." He was escpecially needful today. What a blessing to have been able to be there for these people today. --Until next week. John
P.S. Sorry about the "I-itis" in the first paragraph. I didn't know how else to explain my identification with the passage and the book. It is a remarkable little book. So many of the homeless people I meet are simply lonely in addition to their poverty. They long for someone to just listen to them. I'll end with another short quote from this book:
"I remember some time ago I visited a very wonderful home for old people. There were about forty there and they had everything, but they were all looking towards the door. There was not a smile on their faces, and I asked the sister in charge of them, 'Sister, why are these people not smiling? Why are they looking towards the door?' And she, very beautifully, had to answer and give the truth: 'It's the same every day. They are longing for someone to come and visit them.' This is great poverty!"
---Mother Teresa, "Everything starts with Prayer
Monday, June 13, 2011
Downtown 6/12/2011
Yesterday morning at church we had communion. When the pastor came to the point where he says the line, "Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of me" I once again was left wondering, "How often?" I've thought about this verse many times before and I seem to get tangled up in the idea of doing something so often that it becomes such a ritual and then the real meaning in doing it is lost versus simply obeying the words of Jesus. Communion is a time to reflect on the sacrifice of Jesus for our sins and reflection on our lives and how desperately we need His sacrifice and mercy. As I get older, I may not actually do as many sinful things as I did when I was younger, but my thought-life, attitudes towards others and judgments of others is still a daily battle. The need for communion and continual cleansing never goes away. I thought about these things as I left church for downtown....
I have to admit I haven't been feeling too well lately. Life has been very busy the last six or seven months, I've been out of my meds for a few days and I'm a little apprehensive about some upcoming things. So when I arrived downtown (it was 1 pm) I parked in the parking lot at the Jack in the Box and just rested for about twenty minutes or so. I wasn't exactly refreshed, but I figured it was time to get going and I drove over a couple of blocks to see if Willie or Tara Lee had returned to one of the two alleys they used to stay in. However, no one was there. A few more blocks over is where Will lives so I drove over there next. In an adjacent alley from Will is where I found Willie. I haven't seen Willie in about two months at least. I heard that Tara Lee had been arrested awhile back and perhaps that was why I hadn't seen him (I heard about it from Will). Willie told me that Tara had been arrested on an old outstanding warrant (I don't know what it was for), but that he (Tara) was out and around just not in this section of town any more. There was another man by the name of John who was staying in the same alley. I was able to help both men with some supplies. While we were talking a young woman walked through the alley. Her name was Nicole and she needed help too. She told me she was looking to get to San Bernardino because that county's 'resources' were better. She wasn't specific about which resources she needed. As we looked through the trunk for any clothes she might need I came across a hooded sweater, but noticed she had on a pretty nice jacket already. She then told me the jacket was borrowed and she really could use the sweater. I didn't have any pants that fit her (pants were a big item of need Sunday) but she did need some socks. Before leaving I prayed with them. Before driving down that alley I had seen a man in a wheelchair on the street (14th) in front of the alley. In fact, the reason I had turned down the alley to begin with was because I wanted to get back to get to him. I asked Willie what his name was because I was pretty sure he was one of the three men I saw on a corner nearby last week. I cruised over to where he was and sure enough he was the same guy. Willie had told me his name was Revon. I talked with Revon for awhile, remember last week he was looking through a porn magazine the whole time I talked with one of the other men he was with. While Revon and I were talking Sunday I noticed a woman standing on a corner about a half a block away. She was a tall woman and stood out with the big blonde wig she had on. Remember this is an industrial area and on the weekends, and particulary Sundays, the only people around there are homeless people. As this woman came up the other side of the street from where we were Revon called out to her and said, "Hey, this man's got some food if you want some." She came across the street to us, but wasn't interested in anything that I had to give out. Now I had never gotten out of my car while I talked with Revon so we were eye level to eye level the whole time and I really didn't look too closely at the her (she came up behind me in the car). After she left I asked Revon what her name was in case I saw her again in the area. He told me, "That's not a her." He never did tell me his name, but I've probably seen 'her' before, just not in his 'working clothes'. Revon was interested in anything he could get from me. He even asked for a couple of dollars so he could watch the basketball game later. As I drove away I felt a little used by him, but then I thought back to the line in the communion service, "Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of me." Just what was I supposed to take from this encounter? I could tell that a lesson was starting to develop here.
I ended up driving around the 4th St bridge after that. As I drove under the bridge and on to Mission Rd I saw Michael Wayne. I hadn't seen him since last November. At that time he was about to leave to go to Portland for some Veterans Administration program. Well, he's had to come back here to take care of some legal and paperwork issues and will probably head back up there soon. One of his brothers had died recently and it was obvious he was dealing with the grief of it and our human mortality. He talked alot about his relationship intanglements and what I thought he ought to do. He was on the verge of tears several times in our conversation. We prayed about his situation and I told him I'd be back to see him. We had gone through the clothes in the trunk and he ended up with a whole new 'outfit' and was pretty happy about it.
At this point I just had to go by Lincoln Park to see if any of my friends were over there. No one I knew was at the Park but as I drove down North Main I did see Isavela (the woman in the wheelchair from a couple of months back). She was in the exact same spot as before in her wheelchair. One of the Cuban's who lives in the larger tent behind her small one was sitting with her. I asked where her husband, Javier, was but she said she didn't know, and he hadn't been around for awhile. I told her I had come by for 3 or 4 weeks in a row to check on her. She said she had heard that I did but she works and isn't always there. We don't communicate well enough for me to ask where she works and I don't understand the Cubans too well either so I didn't ask too many probing questions about her situation. The last time, when Javier was there, he spoke English well enough that we could easily understand each other. I asked if maybe Javier was working somewhere, but she didn't know. Once again, it was heartbreaking to leave her, especially not knowing what her situation really was. The Cuban man had several bottles of some kind of alcohol in a grocery bag on the ground next to him and seemed to have the 'glow' of someone who had been drinking. When I gave Isavela a hug and prayed with her she didn't smell as if she had been drinking at all. I told her I'd check in on her again, but that I'd probably be coming by on Mondays in the future (my schedule is changing in a week).
Since I was close to skid row at this point, I went prayer walking there and then over to Cloud Nine Alley. For some reason, the sameness of the activities there on skid row stuck out more than usual. The thing about skid row that is so striking to me each time I go there is the lack of motivation by the inhabitants there to try to change or improve their situation. Their mind set is to exist from day to day the same way as before, by presuming on the goodness of others (i.e. the missions and government relief programs). Then the verse from the morning came back again, "Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of me." Something was starting to get through to me. The observations and feelings of this trip downtown were starting to connect with this verse. We approach God, (pray, take communion-however often) with the same mindset as these folks approach the relief organizations. We ask for stuff, 'relief' from our problems, and guilt the same way they look for their next meal or hand-out. We are no different. "Do this as often"... I remember several years ago I was in a novelty shop in Nepal. It is a Hindu country, but both of the men who ran the store were Muslim. When they found out I was a Christian they started asking me questions about the faith. One of the questions they asked I'll never forget. "How many times does one have to forgive another?" Anyone familiar with the New Testament will remember Peter asking Jesus this same question and if seven times was suffient enough to forgive another. Jesus replied, "Seven times seventy." In other words, don't stop forgiving, because God the Father doesn't stop forgiving. I think being merciful could be added also. I pray that the relief organizations will continue to provide for these folks too. I pray that my heart will always be soft towards these people because that's the way God's is. I had written some things down on paper from the morning's church service. A couple of them were lines from songs we sang and a couple others were from the message. As I look back on what I had written down, it almost seems as though this lesson had been planned out by God in advance of the day. The four things I had written down were; 1) May my heart be not of stone, 2) Jesus came to rescue us (all of us), 3) Let go of (fill in the blank) and 4) Redemption Hill, referring to the place of Jesus' crucifixion. Each one of these phrases I had written down as terrific ideas to tell someone downtown in the course of a conversation sometime. I guess they were God's message to me first. --Until next week. John
I have to admit I haven't been feeling too well lately. Life has been very busy the last six or seven months, I've been out of my meds for a few days and I'm a little apprehensive about some upcoming things. So when I arrived downtown (it was 1 pm) I parked in the parking lot at the Jack in the Box and just rested for about twenty minutes or so. I wasn't exactly refreshed, but I figured it was time to get going and I drove over a couple of blocks to see if Willie or Tara Lee had returned to one of the two alleys they used to stay in. However, no one was there. A few more blocks over is where Will lives so I drove over there next. In an adjacent alley from Will is where I found Willie. I haven't seen Willie in about two months at least. I heard that Tara Lee had been arrested awhile back and perhaps that was why I hadn't seen him (I heard about it from Will). Willie told me that Tara had been arrested on an old outstanding warrant (I don't know what it was for), but that he (Tara) was out and around just not in this section of town any more. There was another man by the name of John who was staying in the same alley. I was able to help both men with some supplies. While we were talking a young woman walked through the alley. Her name was Nicole and she needed help too. She told me she was looking to get to San Bernardino because that county's 'resources' were better. She wasn't specific about which resources she needed. As we looked through the trunk for any clothes she might need I came across a hooded sweater, but noticed she had on a pretty nice jacket already. She then told me the jacket was borrowed and she really could use the sweater. I didn't have any pants that fit her (pants were a big item of need Sunday) but she did need some socks. Before leaving I prayed with them. Before driving down that alley I had seen a man in a wheelchair on the street (14th) in front of the alley. In fact, the reason I had turned down the alley to begin with was because I wanted to get back to get to him. I asked Willie what his name was because I was pretty sure he was one of the three men I saw on a corner nearby last week. I cruised over to where he was and sure enough he was the same guy. Willie had told me his name was Revon. I talked with Revon for awhile, remember last week he was looking through a porn magazine the whole time I talked with one of the other men he was with. While Revon and I were talking Sunday I noticed a woman standing on a corner about a half a block away. She was a tall woman and stood out with the big blonde wig she had on. Remember this is an industrial area and on the weekends, and particulary Sundays, the only people around there are homeless people. As this woman came up the other side of the street from where we were Revon called out to her and said, "Hey, this man's got some food if you want some." She came across the street to us, but wasn't interested in anything that I had to give out. Now I had never gotten out of my car while I talked with Revon so we were eye level to eye level the whole time and I really didn't look too closely at the her (she came up behind me in the car). After she left I asked Revon what her name was in case I saw her again in the area. He told me, "That's not a her." He never did tell me his name, but I've probably seen 'her' before, just not in his 'working clothes'. Revon was interested in anything he could get from me. He even asked for a couple of dollars so he could watch the basketball game later. As I drove away I felt a little used by him, but then I thought back to the line in the communion service, "Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of me." Just what was I supposed to take from this encounter? I could tell that a lesson was starting to develop here.
I ended up driving around the 4th St bridge after that. As I drove under the bridge and on to Mission Rd I saw Michael Wayne. I hadn't seen him since last November. At that time he was about to leave to go to Portland for some Veterans Administration program. Well, he's had to come back here to take care of some legal and paperwork issues and will probably head back up there soon. One of his brothers had died recently and it was obvious he was dealing with the grief of it and our human mortality. He talked alot about his relationship intanglements and what I thought he ought to do. He was on the verge of tears several times in our conversation. We prayed about his situation and I told him I'd be back to see him. We had gone through the clothes in the trunk and he ended up with a whole new 'outfit' and was pretty happy about it.
At this point I just had to go by Lincoln Park to see if any of my friends were over there. No one I knew was at the Park but as I drove down North Main I did see Isavela (the woman in the wheelchair from a couple of months back). She was in the exact same spot as before in her wheelchair. One of the Cuban's who lives in the larger tent behind her small one was sitting with her. I asked where her husband, Javier, was but she said she didn't know, and he hadn't been around for awhile. I told her I had come by for 3 or 4 weeks in a row to check on her. She said she had heard that I did but she works and isn't always there. We don't communicate well enough for me to ask where she works and I don't understand the Cubans too well either so I didn't ask too many probing questions about her situation. The last time, when Javier was there, he spoke English well enough that we could easily understand each other. I asked if maybe Javier was working somewhere, but she didn't know. Once again, it was heartbreaking to leave her, especially not knowing what her situation really was. The Cuban man had several bottles of some kind of alcohol in a grocery bag on the ground next to him and seemed to have the 'glow' of someone who had been drinking. When I gave Isavela a hug and prayed with her she didn't smell as if she had been drinking at all. I told her I'd check in on her again, but that I'd probably be coming by on Mondays in the future (my schedule is changing in a week).
Since I was close to skid row at this point, I went prayer walking there and then over to Cloud Nine Alley. For some reason, the sameness of the activities there on skid row stuck out more than usual. The thing about skid row that is so striking to me each time I go there is the lack of motivation by the inhabitants there to try to change or improve their situation. Their mind set is to exist from day to day the same way as before, by presuming on the goodness of others (i.e. the missions and government relief programs). Then the verse from the morning came back again, "Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of me." Something was starting to get through to me. The observations and feelings of this trip downtown were starting to connect with this verse. We approach God, (pray, take communion-however often) with the same mindset as these folks approach the relief organizations. We ask for stuff, 'relief' from our problems, and guilt the same way they look for their next meal or hand-out. We are no different. "Do this as often"... I remember several years ago I was in a novelty shop in Nepal. It is a Hindu country, but both of the men who ran the store were Muslim. When they found out I was a Christian they started asking me questions about the faith. One of the questions they asked I'll never forget. "How many times does one have to forgive another?" Anyone familiar with the New Testament will remember Peter asking Jesus this same question and if seven times was suffient enough to forgive another. Jesus replied, "Seven times seventy." In other words, don't stop forgiving, because God the Father doesn't stop forgiving. I think being merciful could be added also. I pray that the relief organizations will continue to provide for these folks too. I pray that my heart will always be soft towards these people because that's the way God's is. I had written some things down on paper from the morning's church service. A couple of them were lines from songs we sang and a couple others were from the message. As I look back on what I had written down, it almost seems as though this lesson had been planned out by God in advance of the day. The four things I had written down were; 1) May my heart be not of stone, 2) Jesus came to rescue us (all of us), 3) Let go of (fill in the blank) and 4) Redemption Hill, referring to the place of Jesus' crucifixion. Each one of these phrases I had written down as terrific ideas to tell someone downtown in the course of a conversation sometime. I guess they were God's message to me first. --Until next week. John
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Downtown 6/6/2011
Although I made a trip downtown last week, I was unable to do a write-up about it. There were two or three encounters that are worth mentioning from that week. The first one was with a woman by the name of Jackie. She was near the Lincoln Park area. She was sitting on a milk crate and looked like she was sleeping, it was about 9 a.m. in the morning. I thought she might be Ricky whom I've helped several times before in this area. She was wearing a heavy army green coat with a knit hat on. When I first walked up and asked how she was doing she answered in a way I'll never forget. She looked up at me and in a voice barely above a whisper said, "I'm tired and hungry." There is something about a response from a homeless and desperate person who's only request is for the essentials of existance. I was glad to be there at just the right time. After a few more questions about her needs I was able to give her water and probably the number one request after food and water....socks! Luckily, I had some pants that fit her and gave her a couple of shirts too. She knew Ricky and told me that he usually hangs out around Johnson St. which is useful information. After praying with her and receiving several thank you's, I received the most precious thing, a radiant smile. Despite her lack of front teeth, it was a beautiful smile and worth the trip all by itself. It was a privilege to bring this woman happiness if only for a day.
Around the corner from Jackie and on North Main St. there was a homeless man standing in the shade of a tree in a parking lot. His shopping cart was next to him. When I approached him with a bag of food in my hand I asked how he was doing. His response to this question (his name was Kenny) was the memorable thing about this man. He said, "Just short of wonderful." The obvious perfect sarcastic answer to this question. Just in case you're wondering....he took the bag of food.
One last encounter from last week ocurred on the corner of 14th Pl. and Towne Ave. There were three homeless men sitting together. One was in a wheel chair with a 'boot' on his foot. The other two men were sitting on a short brick retaining wall. As I drove by (I usually don't deal with groups of people that I don't recognize) I heard one of them call out to me. Now when I drove by initially I noticed two of the men, the one in the wheel chair and the one sitting on the brick wall next to him, looking at some magazines. They appeared to be hard core sex magazines. It was the other man who had called out to me. I felt the Spirit leading me to go back to these men. When I had turned around and pulled up along the curb next to them, it was this 'other' man who had recognized me. He came over to the car and we talked for 5 or 10 minutes. I gave them a couple bags of food and we talked about how things were going. While we were talking the other two men didn't say anything to me and continued to 'read' their magazines. Now these magazines have sex pictures on the front and back of the magazine, so as they held them up to read, they were in full view to me. So while I was talking to the one I knew, I kept trying to think of something to say to the other two men. I didn't want to sound condemning, but wanted them to know God cared about them. So I borrowed part of a line I used a couple of weeks ago with Jerry, down on 7th and Los Angeles St. I said to them, "I know you're feeding your loins, but don't forget to feed your soul." With that, I said goodbye and drove off.
Well, that was last week. To be brief about this week, during the time I spent on skid row I ended up giving out 3 bags of food (something I hadn't done before
down there). Two of the bags went to people, on opposite sides of the street, by the police station. The first one went to Stacy who was sleeping under a blanket on the porch of the police station and William who was under a blanket directly across the street. In fact, the blankets were probably acquired from the same place (mission) because they were identical. There was another woman who received a bag. She was on Wall St. I had stopped to watch a
city crew cleaning up the trash on the south side of Wall St from skid row. There was a bulldozer where around a dozen people swept the trash into the 'bucket" and then a truck was there for the bulldozer to dump it into. I commented to another
woman standing on the corner with me that I hadn't seen this down here before. She told me, "I haven't seen them do it in years. They used to do it everyday!"
The third person who received a bag was a woman by the name of Venus. She seemed troubled and distrustful of me. When I asked if she could use some food (I didn't have any with me at the time), she blurted out, "Can you buy me some food at the Food Mart?" I said, "I have a bag of food in my car and I'll come by here and give it to you after I walk around this block." I think she was pretty surprised when I came by about twenty minutes later and gave her the bag. In driving around a couple of blocks so I could pull up right next to her, I saw the old man with the
basket cart on the corner in the picture. He just looked so destitute and looked like the epitome of despair. Yes, God loves these people too. Until next week. --John
Around the corner from Jackie and on North Main St. there was a homeless man standing in the shade of a tree in a parking lot. His shopping cart was next to him. When I approached him with a bag of food in my hand I asked how he was doing. His response to this question (his name was Kenny) was the memorable thing about this man. He said, "Just short of wonderful." The obvious perfect sarcastic answer to this question. Just in case you're wondering....he took the bag of food.
One last encounter from last week ocurred on the corner of 14th Pl. and Towne Ave. There were three homeless men sitting together. One was in a wheel chair with a 'boot' on his foot. The other two men were sitting on a short brick retaining wall. As I drove by (I usually don't deal with groups of people that I don't recognize) I heard one of them call out to me. Now when I drove by initially I noticed two of the men, the one in the wheel chair and the one sitting on the brick wall next to him, looking at some magazines. They appeared to be hard core sex magazines. It was the other man who had called out to me. I felt the Spirit leading me to go back to these men. When I had turned around and pulled up along the curb next to them, it was this 'other' man who had recognized me. He came over to the car and we talked for 5 or 10 minutes. I gave them a couple bags of food and we talked about how things were going. While we were talking the other two men didn't say anything to me and continued to 'read' their magazines. Now these magazines have sex pictures on the front and back of the magazine, so as they held them up to read, they were in full view to me. So while I was talking to the one I knew, I kept trying to think of something to say to the other two men. I didn't want to sound condemning, but wanted them to know God cared about them. So I borrowed part of a line I used a couple of weeks ago with Jerry, down on 7th and Los Angeles St. I said to them, "I know you're feeding your loins, but don't forget to feed your soul." With that, I said goodbye and drove off.
Well, that was last week. To be brief about this week, during the time I spent on skid row I ended up giving out 3 bags of food (something I hadn't done before
down there). Two of the bags went to people, on opposite sides of the street, by the police station. The first one went to Stacy who was sleeping under a blanket on the porch of the police station and William who was under a blanket directly across the street. In fact, the blankets were probably acquired from the same place (mission) because they were identical. There was another woman who received a bag. She was on Wall St. I had stopped to watch a
city crew cleaning up the trash on the south side of Wall St from skid row. There was a bulldozer where around a dozen people swept the trash into the 'bucket" and then a truck was there for the bulldozer to dump it into. I commented to another
woman standing on the corner with me that I hadn't seen this down here before. She told me, "I haven't seen them do it in years. They used to do it everyday!"
The third person who received a bag was a woman by the name of Venus. She seemed troubled and distrustful of me. When I asked if she could use some food (I didn't have any with me at the time), she blurted out, "Can you buy me some food at the Food Mart?" I said, "I have a bag of food in my car and I'll come by here and give it to you after I walk around this block." I think she was pretty surprised when I came by about twenty minutes later and gave her the bag. In driving around a couple of blocks so I could pull up right next to her, I saw the old man with the
basket cart on the corner in the picture. He just looked so destitute and looked like the epitome of despair. Yes, God loves these people too. Until next week. --John
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Mother's Day--Downtown 5/8/2011
I ended up going pretty early on Sunday. I think I was down there around 9 a.m. and since it was overcast it seemed even earlier. I went to Lincoln Park first in hopes of finding Phillip and Nancy (I haven't given up on them yet). I didn't find them, but did talk to a couple of people who had seen them fairly recently. The first guy was actually near where they used to stay. His name was Henry and he told me he had been staying there for about a week. He came here from Mexico about 40 years ago and works as a farm laborer. I couldn't believe it when he told me he was 79 years old. He looked to be in great health. He is out of work at this time, but he told me in another two months he would be able to work in the fields in Bakersfield. Do you know how hot it gets in Bakersfield in the summer? The other homeless man I found by Lincoln Park was a rather dimunitive man by the name of James. He was from Detroit, Michigan and was a Viet Nam veteran. He had been injured in several places on his body during the war (and showed them to me), yet he maintained a tremendous faith and love for God who saw him through many difficult circumstances. He was quite a talker and when I gave him a Guide Post magazine and a Gospel of John booklet he said, "I sure would like to have a full Bible." Well, I just happened to have an extra one in the car so I gave it to him also. He had me read Hebrews 2:13 and Titus 2:13 to him. They held special significance to him. It was a privilege to help and pray with both men.
I left Lincoln Park after this and headed up Alameda. I knew Robert would be somewhere on a side street off 4th. He was asleep when I pulled up and so I got out and brought him some food and water. He had slept through the night with just a blanket around him (see the photo).
I asked him if he knew it was Mother's Day. He indicated he didn't. He told me his Mother's name was Mary.
Another man on the other side of town, Dalton, told me his Mother's name was Maureen. I commented that that sounds like an Irish name and he proudly said, Irish and English. He was up early that day because as he said, "I gotta make some money." Hopefully, the bag of food I gave him took some of the pressure off the day.
I've also been looking for Doug for the last month. The last time I saw him he was looking to get checked into a hospital. I drove over to where I saw him last, but he wasn't around. I did see a man in shorts with no shirt or shoes on sleeping in a corner up against a chain link fence on the sidewalk. In talking with him he seemed somewhat delusional, although he did recognize the food in the bag I gave him. He said his name was Smitty and you had to see him to believe how dirty he was.
I had already prayer-walked on skid row at this point, so I headed over to Cloud Nine Alley. Nothing special happened at either place on Sunday, although I did talk to one of the men at Pastor Rodriguez's church who patrols the area when a service is going on. His name was Marbin (pronounced Mar-beene). He recognized me and remembered me when I spoke in their church last October. You might be wondering why I continue to prayer-walk in these places. As I stated, nothing special happened Sunday and probably more often than not that is the case. However, we are told by the Apostle Paul to "pray without ceasing." I ran across a short narrative written by a man named Derek Langran who lives in Ireland. This story was published in a missionary newsletter I saw several years ago. It is quite a remarkable story and makes the point about persevering in prayer and the amazing results that may take years to come to fruition. This was published in the winter of 2006 from a Greater Europe Mission Publication called Europe Today. The title was "Pray without Ceasing" and subtitled, 'God let me see an answer to the faithful prayers my father uttered so long ago.':
I can recall sitting on a horse-drawn wagon in 1943, rattling over the cobbles in Foley Street, beside a driver called Ned, en route to Fairview with a delivery of beds. I was eight years old. Twice a week I walked down Foley Street to meet my dad, who managed an upholstery factory there. It was an appalling street with terrible tenements and overcrowding that the Dublin of today knows nothing about. The cobbled street was neglected, filthy, and poorly lit.
Midway through 2005, I looked out from the top of the Ulysses House ministry and realized, with growing amazement, that I was standing on the very site of the premises managed by my father all those years ago. Dad worked in Foley Steet for more than 20 years. He prayed each day for the street and its poverty-stricken people. He often gave little tracts about Jesus to the children and paid them small sums of money to keep an eye on his bicycle.
Looking out from the Ulysses House, I thanked God that my father's prayers for the street and for Dublin had been answered. I hope this will encourage all prayer warriors. God inevitably hears and answers--in His own way and time. My dad died in 1988 without seeing his prayers answered, but the Irish Bible Institute now stands on the site, and that is an answer to prayer.
Amen to that.--Until next week. John
I left Lincoln Park after this and headed up Alameda. I knew Robert would be somewhere on a side street off 4th. He was asleep when I pulled up and so I got out and brought him some food and water. He had slept through the night with just a blanket around him (see the photo).
I asked him if he knew it was Mother's Day. He indicated he didn't. He told me his Mother's name was Mary.
Another man on the other side of town, Dalton, told me his Mother's name was Maureen. I commented that that sounds like an Irish name and he proudly said, Irish and English. He was up early that day because as he said, "I gotta make some money." Hopefully, the bag of food I gave him took some of the pressure off the day.
I've also been looking for Doug for the last month. The last time I saw him he was looking to get checked into a hospital. I drove over to where I saw him last, but he wasn't around. I did see a man in shorts with no shirt or shoes on sleeping in a corner up against a chain link fence on the sidewalk. In talking with him he seemed somewhat delusional, although he did recognize the food in the bag I gave him. He said his name was Smitty and you had to see him to believe how dirty he was.
I had already prayer-walked on skid row at this point, so I headed over to Cloud Nine Alley. Nothing special happened at either place on Sunday, although I did talk to one of the men at Pastor Rodriguez's church who patrols the area when a service is going on. His name was Marbin (pronounced Mar-beene). He recognized me and remembered me when I spoke in their church last October. You might be wondering why I continue to prayer-walk in these places. As I stated, nothing special happened Sunday and probably more often than not that is the case. However, we are told by the Apostle Paul to "pray without ceasing." I ran across a short narrative written by a man named Derek Langran who lives in Ireland. This story was published in a missionary newsletter I saw several years ago. It is quite a remarkable story and makes the point about persevering in prayer and the amazing results that may take years to come to fruition. This was published in the winter of 2006 from a Greater Europe Mission Publication called Europe Today. The title was "Pray without Ceasing" and subtitled, 'God let me see an answer to the faithful prayers my father uttered so long ago.':
I can recall sitting on a horse-drawn wagon in 1943, rattling over the cobbles in Foley Street, beside a driver called Ned, en route to Fairview with a delivery of beds. I was eight years old. Twice a week I walked down Foley Street to meet my dad, who managed an upholstery factory there. It was an appalling street with terrible tenements and overcrowding that the Dublin of today knows nothing about. The cobbled street was neglected, filthy, and poorly lit.
Midway through 2005, I looked out from the top of the Ulysses House ministry and realized, with growing amazement, that I was standing on the very site of the premises managed by my father all those years ago. Dad worked in Foley Steet for more than 20 years. He prayed each day for the street and its poverty-stricken people. He often gave little tracts about Jesus to the children and paid them small sums of money to keep an eye on his bicycle.
Looking out from the Ulysses House, I thanked God that my father's prayers for the street and for Dublin had been answered. I hope this will encourage all prayer warriors. God inevitably hears and answers--in His own way and time. My dad died in 1988 without seeing his prayers answered, but the Irish Bible Institute now stands on the site, and that is an answer to prayer.
Amen to that.--Until next week. John
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Downtown 5/1/2011
After skipping a trip last week due to the Easter weekend, I was looking forward to Sunday's trip. I tried to find Javier and his wife, but the Cubans living next to where they were said they were living in what sounded like one of the low cost hotels (I'm not sure which one) downtown in the skid row area. Although I'm glad they are not living in a tent anymore, some of those hotels are substandard and have people living in and around them who aren't the best of neighbors either. At least this is a start though, and they're off the street. I don't know if Pastor Rodriguez was able to play a part in getting them some help or not, but I'll find out when I see him next time.
I ended up seeing John Stokes next. He was back at his spot under the freeway off of Olympic and Alameda. The last time I saw him he was trying to get together enough money to buy a tent. Apparently, he wasn't able to come up with enough for a tent, but he did come up wih some carpeting that served as a floor and a couple of walls for his 'house' Sunday. I ended up giving him the last sleeping bag I had. He was very appreciative. Tuesday, May 3rd, is his birthday, he will be 63 years old. One of the gratifying things about our relationship that is almost 2 years old now, is that every time I see him he asks me to pray for him. Not too far from where John was I looked for Willie, whom I haven't seen in a while now. I couldn't find him Sunday either, but while I was in that area I found "T". (No not Mr T.) When I told him my name was John he said, "Well, that's my last name." "T" was from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and had five brothers. He also had a grandmother he loved very much. He was quite talkative and since it was pretty warm at that point and he had been working (looking for recyclables) he was thirsty and needed the water I had. I told him I'd look for him again next time when I was down there.
On the other side of town by Pico and Olive streets I recognized Dalton. He was sitting under some shade on the curb on Pico Blvd eating something for lunch (I'm not sure what it was). When I commented to him that it was a nice day to be sitting under a tree having a 'picnic' he said, "It's a beautiful day." It always amazes me how so many of the homeless people I meet can take pleasure in some of the simplest joys they experience, like a nice day, especially in lieu of the many pressing needs they have.
After taking a break at the Jack in the Box on Alameda I headed down to the skid row area. As I drove by 7th and Los Angeles streets I saw Jerry (the man with one eye) sitting on his spot there by the corner. I found a place to park around the corner and a couple of blocks down and walked back to where he was. I had brought a small bag of food (a couple of cans of beef ravioli and some cookies) and gave them to him as I said, "Hey, Jerry how ya' doin." I guess Jerry doesn't see too well with the one eye that he does have but he recognized my voice. I had given him a bag of food the last time I saw him and so he said, "You're the guy from the church, I recognize your voice." I was kind of disappointed that he didn't want me to sit next to him because it would mean people wouldn't be giving him any money while I was there. He had a cup that he would shake and people would drop coins and dollar bills into it. I respected his situation and stood back out of the way and observed what was going on for about twenty minutes. Jerry did pretty well
collecting coins from people as they walked by. It is a very busy intersection with a lot of foot traffic. It is on the outskirts of the garment district which has a lot of people walking around just about every day of the week. One young man passing by gave Jerry a hard time about using his handicap to get people to give him money. I didn't want to intervene, but I felt like asking the man what his handicap was (besides lack of compassion). As the time of my standing there drew to a close, I asked God what I could say to Jerry as I left. I wanted to leave Jerry with something besides the food in the bag, something of lasting value. Within a short time it came to me what to say. I walked up to
Jerry (on the wrong side because I startled him) and put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Jerry, I have to go now, but make sure you don't forget to feed your soul too, OK? I'll see you next time." With that I left and crossed the street intending to go on down to 6th St. After crossing the street, I stood there for a minute or so and looked back at Jerry. Then I crossed over to the other side of Los Angeles St and then back across 7th until I was on the corner directly across the street from him. That's when I took the picture on the right with my cell phone. It's too far away to really see what Jerry's 'handicap' is. The right side of his forehead/skull and eye area are sunken in quite a bit, like he had been crushed in some kind of an accident. Jerry had stood up a couple of times while I was behind him and I'm guessing him to be about 6' 1"-2" tall. I'm going to have to come up with some other innovative way of talking with Jerry besides just basic greetings. Perhaps I could take him to lunch some time. I don't know just yet, but I want to figure out a way to reach him. Please pray that something develops here. I walked on down to 6th and prayer-walked the skid row area. I ended up praying with a couple of people there. I'm not really sure yet, but a couple of people acted like they recognized me. Perhaps, the persistance in going there is starting to pay off and people there are not surprised to see me anymore. One interesting thing that happened, was while walking back to the car on 7th St. a policeman about 20 feet ahead of me was picking up something on the sidewalk. As I got to where he was and asked him what he was picking up he said, "You know what it is." I had a pretty good idea what it was, small white rocks of crack cocaine that someone had thrown away in trying to get away from him. His police car was parked around the corner in the middle of the street with the lights flashing. I guess he was in the middle of a situation so I didn't try talking with him further. I'm sure this is a scene that happens several times a day around there.
I left the skid row area and drove up to the alleys where I used to see Tara Lee and Willie. I drove down those alley's a couple of times Sunday, but no one was there except Tony on the last trip. Tony is a friend of theirs and said they might be showing up Sunday night or Monday for a few days. I'll keep checking next week.
In that same area I happened to drive by John Mellon and his girlfriend Dawn. They were on 14th Pl. by Griffith St. I had never seen John at this location before and found out they had lost all their stuff recently. While they were away from their spot one of the businesses in the alley where they stayed had taken away all their stuff. It was a clear message that they wanted them to move, because nothing else in the alley was disturbed! Dawn was most upset that the blanket I had given her was gone. She referred to the blanket as her 'snugglie'. I was able to supply them with the usual; socks, shirts and yes another blanket. John commented as I pulled up that they had just been talking about me and how they wished I would come by. Talk about the Lord leading!!!
Well, it was time to head over to Cloud Nine Alley. After parking and walking over to the south end of the alley I saw my friend Gary there picking up a few odds and ends. He had his bicycle with him and it looked like he was getting ready to leave. He was happy to see me, although I could tell he was not happy about something. I commented that he seemed kind of bummed out and he told me that a couple of days before he had gotten into an argument with one of the managers of the businesses in that alley. Gary does odd jobs for some of the businesses there and this particular one, although he's on good terms with the owner, the manager doesn't seem to want him around. I listened to him tell me what happened and share his feelings of disappointment about it. It just so happened that I had witnessed a similar example of someone losing it a day or so before and how it made for an uncomfortable situation to be around even though I wasn't involved in the problem. I remembered how in Hebrews the author talks about how Jesus, our High Priest, was a man and faced the same things we face and how he was not unfamiliar with how we felt. When we prayed together I asked the Lord to watch over our hearts because they were wounded over these experiences and needed His comfort. Gary was right there with me on the same page as we prayed. It was a wonderful heartfelt moment we shared together. I learned from Gary that there are now a couple of other people living around the alley. One is Fred who seems to be in and out of jail due to drug related problems and a woman named Lily who built a little shack in a vacant lot between the alley and Main St. I'm looking forward to meeting up with these people now too. Until next week. --John
P.S. May marks the end of the second year that I've been going downtown. I hope to make a short 3 or 4 minute video in one of the alleys very soon and posting it here on the blog to mark the occasion. Monday night my wife and I were in the San Fernando valley. As we drove home at around 10 p.m. we passed by downtown at night. All the buildings were lit up and it really looked beatiful. It made me think, though, of all the people I've met in the last two years who live in the 'shadows' of these buildings and pretty lights and how tonight they're living and sleeping right down there again. Hopefully, I touched some lives there, I know they've touched mine.
I ended up seeing John Stokes next. He was back at his spot under the freeway off of Olympic and Alameda. The last time I saw him he was trying to get together enough money to buy a tent. Apparently, he wasn't able to come up with enough for a tent, but he did come up wih some carpeting that served as a floor and a couple of walls for his 'house' Sunday. I ended up giving him the last sleeping bag I had. He was very appreciative. Tuesday, May 3rd, is his birthday, he will be 63 years old. One of the gratifying things about our relationship that is almost 2 years old now, is that every time I see him he asks me to pray for him. Not too far from where John was I looked for Willie, whom I haven't seen in a while now. I couldn't find him Sunday either, but while I was in that area I found "T". (No not Mr T.) When I told him my name was John he said, "Well, that's my last name." "T" was from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and had five brothers. He also had a grandmother he loved very much. He was quite talkative and since it was pretty warm at that point and he had been working (looking for recyclables) he was thirsty and needed the water I had. I told him I'd look for him again next time when I was down there.
On the other side of town by Pico and Olive streets I recognized Dalton. He was sitting under some shade on the curb on Pico Blvd eating something for lunch (I'm not sure what it was). When I commented to him that it was a nice day to be sitting under a tree having a 'picnic' he said, "It's a beautiful day." It always amazes me how so many of the homeless people I meet can take pleasure in some of the simplest joys they experience, like a nice day, especially in lieu of the many pressing needs they have.
After taking a break at the Jack in the Box on Alameda I headed down to the skid row area. As I drove by 7th and Los Angeles streets I saw Jerry (the man with one eye) sitting on his spot there by the corner. I found a place to park around the corner and a couple of blocks down and walked back to where he was. I had brought a small bag of food (a couple of cans of beef ravioli and some cookies) and gave them to him as I said, "Hey, Jerry how ya' doin." I guess Jerry doesn't see too well with the one eye that he does have but he recognized my voice. I had given him a bag of food the last time I saw him and so he said, "You're the guy from the church, I recognize your voice." I was kind of disappointed that he didn't want me to sit next to him because it would mean people wouldn't be giving him any money while I was there. He had a cup that he would shake and people would drop coins and dollar bills into it. I respected his situation and stood back out of the way and observed what was going on for about twenty minutes. Jerry did pretty well
collecting coins from people as they walked by. It is a very busy intersection with a lot of foot traffic. It is on the outskirts of the garment district which has a lot of people walking around just about every day of the week. One young man passing by gave Jerry a hard time about using his handicap to get people to give him money. I didn't want to intervene, but I felt like asking the man what his handicap was (besides lack of compassion). As the time of my standing there drew to a close, I asked God what I could say to Jerry as I left. I wanted to leave Jerry with something besides the food in the bag, something of lasting value. Within a short time it came to me what to say. I walked up to
Jerry (on the wrong side because I startled him) and put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Jerry, I have to go now, but make sure you don't forget to feed your soul too, OK? I'll see you next time." With that I left and crossed the street intending to go on down to 6th St. After crossing the street, I stood there for a minute or so and looked back at Jerry. Then I crossed over to the other side of Los Angeles St and then back across 7th until I was on the corner directly across the street from him. That's when I took the picture on the right with my cell phone. It's too far away to really see what Jerry's 'handicap' is. The right side of his forehead/skull and eye area are sunken in quite a bit, like he had been crushed in some kind of an accident. Jerry had stood up a couple of times while I was behind him and I'm guessing him to be about 6' 1"-2" tall. I'm going to have to come up with some other innovative way of talking with Jerry besides just basic greetings. Perhaps I could take him to lunch some time. I don't know just yet, but I want to figure out a way to reach him. Please pray that something develops here. I walked on down to 6th and prayer-walked the skid row area. I ended up praying with a couple of people there. I'm not really sure yet, but a couple of people acted like they recognized me. Perhaps, the persistance in going there is starting to pay off and people there are not surprised to see me anymore. One interesting thing that happened, was while walking back to the car on 7th St. a policeman about 20 feet ahead of me was picking up something on the sidewalk. As I got to where he was and asked him what he was picking up he said, "You know what it is." I had a pretty good idea what it was, small white rocks of crack cocaine that someone had thrown away in trying to get away from him. His police car was parked around the corner in the middle of the street with the lights flashing. I guess he was in the middle of a situation so I didn't try talking with him further. I'm sure this is a scene that happens several times a day around there.
I left the skid row area and drove up to the alleys where I used to see Tara Lee and Willie. I drove down those alley's a couple of times Sunday, but no one was there except Tony on the last trip. Tony is a friend of theirs and said they might be showing up Sunday night or Monday for a few days. I'll keep checking next week.
In that same area I happened to drive by John Mellon and his girlfriend Dawn. They were on 14th Pl. by Griffith St. I had never seen John at this location before and found out they had lost all their stuff recently. While they were away from their spot one of the businesses in the alley where they stayed had taken away all their stuff. It was a clear message that they wanted them to move, because nothing else in the alley was disturbed! Dawn was most upset that the blanket I had given her was gone. She referred to the blanket as her 'snugglie'. I was able to supply them with the usual; socks, shirts and yes another blanket. John commented as I pulled up that they had just been talking about me and how they wished I would come by. Talk about the Lord leading!!!
Well, it was time to head over to Cloud Nine Alley. After parking and walking over to the south end of the alley I saw my friend Gary there picking up a few odds and ends. He had his bicycle with him and it looked like he was getting ready to leave. He was happy to see me, although I could tell he was not happy about something. I commented that he seemed kind of bummed out and he told me that a couple of days before he had gotten into an argument with one of the managers of the businesses in that alley. Gary does odd jobs for some of the businesses there and this particular one, although he's on good terms with the owner, the manager doesn't seem to want him around. I listened to him tell me what happened and share his feelings of disappointment about it. It just so happened that I had witnessed a similar example of someone losing it a day or so before and how it made for an uncomfortable situation to be around even though I wasn't involved in the problem. I remembered how in Hebrews the author talks about how Jesus, our High Priest, was a man and faced the same things we face and how he was not unfamiliar with how we felt. When we prayed together I asked the Lord to watch over our hearts because they were wounded over these experiences and needed His comfort. Gary was right there with me on the same page as we prayed. It was a wonderful heartfelt moment we shared together. I learned from Gary that there are now a couple of other people living around the alley. One is Fred who seems to be in and out of jail due to drug related problems and a woman named Lily who built a little shack in a vacant lot between the alley and Main St. I'm looking forward to meeting up with these people now too. Until next week. --John
P.S. May marks the end of the second year that I've been going downtown. I hope to make a short 3 or 4 minute video in one of the alleys very soon and posting it here on the blog to mark the occasion. Monday night my wife and I were in the San Fernando valley. As we drove home at around 10 p.m. we passed by downtown at night. All the buildings were lit up and it really looked beatiful. It made me think, though, of all the people I've met in the last two years who live in the 'shadows' of these buildings and pretty lights and how tonight they're living and sleeping right down there again. Hopefully, I touched some lives there, I know they've touched mine.
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