UNDER THE BRIDGE: To Ask or Not to Ask. That is the Question!

A Tale of Two Bridges!


July 21, 2014

     As Bill and I pull up to the last pavilion at the Bay Side Camp, the first homeless person we notice is Mari.  She is sitting on a picnic table, one hand in the air, cheerfully waving at us.  They all readily recognize my pick-up truck, especially every Sunday afternoons!

     I quickly acknowledge the others; Jersey and his wife Theresa, Kojak, John, Ron, etc.  Praise the Lord, there are also about a half dozen new people waiting for us.  There are more homeless than usual today, as they are taking shelter under the pavilion from the stormy weather and light rain.

     But where is Robert, Mari’s 21-year-old son?  I’ll have to ask her, to make sure he’s alright.

     Today is different – I brought them pizza instead of cheeseburgers to shake up their routine a little.  It’s a little different than hamburgers (which are neat and packaged), as we have to cut the pizza, hand out napkins on which to put their two slices, have them pick the slices, all this in a windy environment.

     Though I know they are hungry, nobody rushes – all are polite and patient.  Some only take one piece and come back later for the second.  Some wait until all are served and then come up for their slice of pepperoni pizza.  There is respect and dignity amongst each other…today.

     There is talking and sharing, telling of stories and catching up with the latest news…by the way, where is Mari?

Mother Mari!

     I miss Robert’s cheerful disposition – like a puppy beagle with his leash off!

     “Mari.” 

     “Yea, Jean-Luc”

     If I just call her name and look at her, she knows I have something on my mind to talk to her about which she might not volunteer to tell me.

     “Where is Robert?”  I get a glimpse of the look only a concerned mother can have.

     “He’s in jail,” as if it was normal for everyone here to take their turn at being in jail.

     “What???”  Because it is not normal in my book that anyone like Robert should be in jail.  He has gotten out of jail just three or four months ago.

     “What did he do?”

     “Failure to appear; if he had appeared, they probably would have thrown the charges out.”

     “So why couldn’t he appear?”

     “He didn’t want to.” 

     I could imagine why, but I don’t go there.  Neither am I told what he had to appear for.  One has to know when to stop asking questions.

     She continues, “He should only be in overnight; he has court tomorrow.  They should release him, though he could get 30-60 days.  If he has this one judge, he’ll get 90 days.  She just doesn’t put up with that.”

Robert, 21-year old son of Mari with dog, Hanna Montana!

     Most of the homeless who have a phone have the jail phone number on their contacts list – and all the different extensions.  Most can tell you the names of the deputies and the guards at the jail, visitation times and any other details you may ask.  They can look up who was arrested and on what charges.  They also know all the judge’s names!

     I fed one lady last week who was in our large city jail when it blew up last March.  Many were wounded, two got killed and the 600-inmate jail was totally destroyed.  She was able to assist some who were buried in the rubble.  But, that’s a whole other story.  Later, maybe.  Now is not the time to ask such questions.

     “Chris is in jail, also.  His car is left over there,” as she points to it.  She knew I was going to ask why so she continued, “I don’t quite know why he’s in jail – something about assault, maybe.” 

     Don’t ask.

     I greet John, whom I haven’t seen in a long time ago.  He took the bus back from Arkansas and is glad to be back in Florida.  John attended ministry school for two years, here in Pensacola.  It is a pleasure to share the Lord with him and we fellowship for a while.  He is a unique homeless individual.  I want to ask him about ministry school, but maybe later.

John...the Baptist?  Don't ask.

     Jersey seems to be healing well from his accident and adventures from last week (see blog from 7/13).  His wife, Theresa, is here.  She works as a Nurse Assistant in a nursing home. Yet, they don’t make enough for an apartment and are homeless, living out of their car.  Their son, JJ, often times, stays with his grandmother until they can get back on their feet.  They are the sweetest couple and treat each other (and others) well.  We all miss JJ, as he is a loving, wonderful 7-year old.

Theresa and Jersey, with dog, Brianna; a sweet, loving couple.  But, where's JJ?

     Kojak is one of those guys who is very social, friendly and loving even though he is drunk.  He is enjoying the pizza I brought and the fruit pie and drinks Bill gave him.  His bruised ribs are healing well and he is all smiles, today.

Kojak was a bar tender and then a chef in fine restaurants.
Go ahead; ask him.

     Shelly, along with others, walk over from the other side of the bridge.  Shelly is a wonderful, giving, loving, intelligent and beautiful homeless woman…until she has a drink.  She doesn’t become more of these things after drinking, as Kojak would.  If she has been drinking, people scatter when they see her coming (see post from 7/13).  She loves the Lord and we pray for her healing.  At this moment, she is sober.  I take her at face value and I don’t ask any questions.

     “But, where is Stosh?”

     It’s explained to me that he and a friend got a hold of a gallon.  I am not told a gallon of what, though I strongly suspect a gallon of what.  I don’t ask.  They walked over on the short railroad wood truss bridge and over to a sandy, bushy island (a peninsula, really) they call “Gilligan’s Island.”

     His drunk friend came up to us as we were leaving to see if he could have some pizza to take to the “island.”

     Nope.  No questions asked; no other answer given.

     Before leaving, I give them the Scripture of the week; “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made to God…”  Philippians 4:6

     Bill and I drive over to the other side of the bridge, to the Bridge Camp.  We now see why they are all coming to the Bay Side Camp which is on the lee of the bridge.  The windward side is very windy with waves being kicked up high, spraying the edge of the park.

     Through the sound of the howling wind and whistling palm fronds, Don is sound asleep, covered up on a chaise lounge by Gary’s van!

Don; peace during the storm.

     Gary steps out of his van to take his fishing pole out of the bay and brings in his fishing net.  No fish today.  He is very glad to get pizza and fruit pies.  They each have their favorite fruit pie which Bill has memorized.  Gary likes apple while Boudreaux, who just walked up, loves the lemon or chocolate pies.

No fish today, uh, Gary?  (Ask him about the one he missed!)

     The homeless all have favorite foods, articles of clothing and even colors.  There are things they won’t eat, no matter how hungry they are; and things they won’t wear no matter how naked they are.  No questions asked.

     Bill cannot walk on the sea wall over to the bridge, as he would probably be blown away by the 35-40 mph wind gusts, not to mention the waves (he doesn’t weigh as much as most). Once, when the waves were big, we still walked the sea wall to minister to those under the bridge.  I kept reminding Bill, who was in front of me, “Don’t look at the waves and the storm, Bill, just keep your eyes on Jesus,” in reference to Peter walking on the water.

Most injuries to our homeless come from falling on rocks
and off seawalls.  Why, you ask?

     Boudreaux and Jack the Fisherman Astrophysicist, wave at us as they come from under the bridge to let us know that THEY will come over.  Good.

     We feed them all, chit-chat a while, encourage them in the Lord and leave to go to Jack’s camp.  We also give Mari a ride back to her camp.

     We pull up to Jack’s camp, honk twice and get the food out of the truck.  Mari is glad to be back in her camp as Jack is still the first one to come out of the woods and greet us.  I know they’re hungry, but they make us first feel welcome; shaking hands, hugging, and welcoming words.

     As Bill and I take the food out, Michelle and Jim walk up.  Michelle pulls out her cell phone and calls John just under the bridge and down the tracks to tell him we have pizza.  John loves to socialize, but also enjoys the privacy of his own camp.

    She points at me and says, “John wants to see you!”

    While Bill is ministering to the others, I take stock of their needs; Jack – 28” waist for pants, Mari – chicken noodle soup (she’s been losing weight and needs to eat more; she weighs about 80 pounds, now), bug spray and shorts, John – 32” waist work pants.  I hand out toilet paper, propane gas while Bill hands out fruit pies, cold drinks, socks, boxer shorts, wipes, etc.

     However, what they appreciate more than these things is the fellowship; the time we spend with them, the prayers, the stories – the love of Jesus Christ, for if we have done it to the “least of these,” we have done it to Jesus.  When we give to them, we really give to Jesus.  When we love them, we truly love Jesus.

     I try to mostly listen to them as they share, rather than ask questions.

Jack the Intellectual and Mari:
When we love them, we truly love Jesus

     We part way and head to John’s camp.  We drive down the side of the railroad tracks until we see John coming up on his bike.  It’s good to see him and we all head back to his camp, nestled in the trees and barely visible. 

     John, who is usually alone, is very picky about who stays at his camp. He now has a guest named Patrick.  We sit with them and fellowship while they eat.  John tells me that Patrick has no clothe (he has shorts on) and stays in the tent rather than being eaten by bugs.  I tell him I have a T-shirt for Patrick.  When I come back from the truck with a new red T-shirt, John tell me that Patrick doesn’t like red!  I look at Patrick and he nods in agreement.

     He would rather be naked than wear red!  No questions asked.  That’s fine.  You’ve got to know when not to ask questions.

“You want it, John?”

“Sure!”

Patrick doesn't like the color red!

     

John the Irishman

     Being a veteran, John went to the VA hospital to be checked, as he has lung cancer.  A new, large spot was found on his right lung.  He said he kind of knew it because he had pain there, he was not feeling well and he had been getting out of breath quicker.  He is feeling better, today.

     It’s strange because he is strong, healthy looking and does work when he can.  He looks to be barely over forty years old, but is actually sixty-four!  I told him I would be praying for him.  We talked about the Lord, heaven and his life.  He doesn’t complain and has a positive attitude. 

     John was saddened by the loss of the beaded chain around his neck with a crucifix hanging on it.  He has also lost his prescription glasses which makes it hard for him to work, now.  I don’t ask how he lost them.  I do ask how I can help him get new ones.  He is working on getting them replaced.

     As Bill and I silently drove away, I had a little talk with the Lord about John which I will have to finish when I get home. 

     I have a lot of questions to ask the Lord.

Even these homeless pigeons wait for us on Sundays!
They loved the pizza.

     Good night, folks, and God bless y'all.

SCROLL DOWN TO THE NEXT AMAZING BLOG!

UNDER THE BRIDGE: "The Keys Are in the Bay!"

The Stosh residence

Sunday, July 13, 2014

     “I visited him for the first and last time,” Gary shared with us.  “What I heard he did was not right.  Sometime, some people need to be put in jail so they can become free,” he wisely added.

     Kelly, from the Bridge Camp, had been arrested yesterday for beating his girlfriend Tina.

    “There are no drugs or alcohol in jail, so you get cleaned up – set free,” Gary explained.

     After hearing all the stories, this is what I pieced together.

     It all started yesterday when a friend in a van picked up Jersey (homeless) to give him a ride.  But the friend – the one driving - was drunk (we are told)!  As soon as he got out of the park, he sped up and promptly hit a palm tree at about 35 mph, uprooting it (very difficult to do), and flipping the van upside down.  To make matters worse, his “friend” ran from the scene and left Jersey behind; who also decides to run. 

The scene of the crime - one dead palm tree

     The cops quickly found him sitting at a pic-nic table under a pavilion at Bay Side Park; and arrested and handcuffed him thinking he was the driver.  Jersey was not exactly sober, himself.  However, after a while, they finally found out he was just a passenger and released him.  He went to the hospital to get treated.  Jersey cut his lip bad enough to require six stitches on the inside and some outside.  He also burned himself on the van exhaust pipes trying to get out of the van.

Jersey (center), his wife (right) and their wonderful
 seven year old son who sings at our services.

     But, that’s not all!  Murphy and Shelly (homeless) are parked by the bridge and hear all the commotion of the accident at the other end of the small park– blue lights, cops, ambulance, police dogs.  Shelly walks over to see what is happening even though Murphy tells her not to.  Murphy, now upset at Shelly for going, drives over to the busy accident scene.  He gets out of his van and proceeds to beat up Shelly for whatever reason.  Both having been drinking doesn’t help.

     The fact that Murphy was caught beating Shelly on video by the police dash cam does not help his case.  He was promptly arrested and thrown in jail, at which time they probably threw his jail cell key in the deepest part of the bay by the park – the same place Shelly subsequently threw his only van keys and cell phone.
     That's how the story was told to me.  When I see Murphy, I will talk to him and I will let you know his side of the story.  Stories, in the world  of the homeless, can easily become a rumor feeding frenzy!

     Gary continues, “I wasn’t going to see him again, but his mom called me and asked me to.  She softened my heart.  I’ll go visit him one more time and that’s it.”

     Gary and Jack the Fisherman Astrophysicist (7/6 post) are now the only ones left at the bridge camp out of a dozen who have come and gone.

     All these people are so sweet and pleasant to be with when they are sober.  Kelly, Tina, Jersey love the Lord Jesus Christ and confess Him openly.  But, they have a handicap which prevents them from moving forward in life; as much a handicap as someone bound to a wheelchair.

Gary and his dog

    

     Today, we find Tina standing and READING to the other homeless sitting under the pavilion out of my book The Spark in the Street!  They cry when hearing the story of Mari; they laugh upon hearing John’s story.  It is so amazing to me that so many of the homeless want to read a book about ministering to the homeless! 

      I saw Stosh who was in a hurry to ride his bike to the swim area to meet Mari so they can both go swimming.  Yes, they’re back together, again!  Can you keep up with these two?  I give Stosh the ant spray he asked for last week.  Fire ants seem to be attracted to him as he sleeps on the ground.  He shows me all the ant bites on his legs and arms.

     “Now, don’t spray this on yourself,” I counsel him.

     “Yea, Yea, I’ll spray a barrier on the ground around me when I lay down to sleep.”

     Kojak’s ribs are still mending.  I know he’s getting better because he’s starting to tell jokes, again.

     I ask him, “Kojak, how do you know so many jokes?”

     “I was a bar tender for seventeen years.”

     “Oh.”

     Robert, Mari’s pleasant, twenty-one year old son, is here with his faithful companion; his dog Hanna Montana.  Usually energetic and talkative, Robert seems reserved this week, again.

     I come and sit by him on the pic-nic table.  “Robert, why are you so quiet?”

     “It’s hot.”  The heat and humidity here can melt you like soft wax on hot pavement.

     Hunger may also be a factor.  I just fed them all cheeseburgers from MacDonald’s, and Bill brought them individual pies and water bottles.  Hopefully, Robert will feel better though he shares with me that a beer wakes him up and gives him energy.

     “I hear you play the guitar.”

     “Yea, I play the guitar, drums and trombone.”

     “We’re gonna have to have you play at our next service.  Do you know a gospel song or hymn?

     Music is a gift I try to steer them to use for the glory of the Lord. 

(Sorry, Robert, my iPhone pictures did not transfer to my computer!)

The Bridge Camp (public park).  Kelly's white van is on left

The Bay Side Camp (public park)

     The stories above involved two camps; one on one side of the bridge and one on the other side.  We know one as the Bridge Camp and the other as the Bay Side Camp (because it is located in Bay Side Park).  There are two bridges, side by side.  One is a fishing only bridge (about 1/3 mile long) and one is a four lane traffic bridge crossing the bay (Three Mile Bridge).

Though we feed them and give them some items which they need, our main purpose in coming to the homeless is their spiritual welfare; we minister to them the love of Jesus Christ.  We don’t judge or condemn them.  We respect the dignity of the individual.  We don’t take sides or tell them what to do.  If they do ask for advice, we counsel them according to the Word of God.

     We make certain they are “saved”; we encourage them in Christ; and we disciple them to be used by the Lord where they are.

    

    
     Now Bill and I move on to Mari/Jack’s camp about three miles down the road.  This is a social camp under the shade of oak trees.  Bill has been sick the past two weeks and has not been able to come with me to visit these precious children of God whom he loves very much.  They have prayed for him and are now glad to see him here and feeling better. 

        Jack the Intellectual’s tall, thin figure appears first out of the trees.  I usually pull up in the clearing and honk my horn twice so they know I’m here – no surprises. 

The Jack/Mari Camp in the oaks

     He reaches out to shake my hand and excitingly says, “Jean-Luc, I read your book,” and as his eyes open wide, “I loved chapter 14, and also the story about the Bright Neon-Green Jogging Tights and …”

     He proceeds to give me a complete book report and critique. It is so amazing that he can remember all the details from the book, as he has been drinking.  I don’t have his amazing memory even though I’m sober! 

     John walks up next to me.  We shake hands. “Yeah, and I liked Appendix C!”  He should; it’s about him!

     John is social but also enjoys his privacy.  He camps just up the railroad tracks in a well-organized camp which he shares with another man.  He loves to cook and will sometimes bring food to Jack’s camp.

     “John, I came to see you a couple times, but you weren’t there.  I’m glad to see you, brother, ‘cause I was worried about you.”

     “I took a job out of town for a couple of weeks.”

     John is strong and able for his age (60?) and he is a hard worker.  He was married for 32 years, until his wife died 18 years ago.  We believe God is going to heal him of lung cancer.  He doesn’t seem to be worried about it as he is saved, born again and going to heaven.

     I pass out cheeseburgers to everyone and while I’m speaking to Jack and John, Bill is ministering to the others.  He is passing out fruit pies and drinks.  He also brought socks, boxer shorts and a big bag of pots and pans which his wife Glenda cleared out of their kitchen.  This camp cooks some meals and they are very happy to receive pots and pans which are expensive to acquire.

     I usually bring them small propane bottles for their camping stoves, toilet paper, disinfecting wipes, socks and anything else they tell me they might need.  They never ask for much.  Today, Jack gives me a suitcase full of XL clothing which was given to them.

     “Here,” he says, “take these and give them out.  Nobody here wears XL.” 

     The homeless are contributing clothing for the homeless!  Actually, they will share amongst themselves; whether it be clothing, food, or even beer.  One may go panhandling and use the money for the whole camp.  In that aspect, they more accurately represent the first century Christian church where they all had everything in common.

   

    

Mouse killer in training at Jack's/Mari's camp!

    

     Good night, folks, and God bless y'all.

SCROLL DOWN TO THE NEXT MIRACLE BLOG!

UNDER THE BRIDGE: "It Was God!"

    

Looking under the bridge at Jack the Fisherman's condo by the bay!

Sunday, July 6, 2014

     “It was God!” Jack said emphatically to Mari, as if he had to convince her.

     “It was God all the way,” she agreed.

     “What was God?” I asked them.

     Jack was glad to answer, “Mary and I got a small construction helper job, and we were standing on the corner wondering how we were going to get there – hitchhike, bus, walk.  We did not have one penny on us.  Suddenly, this lady stopped at the corner, walked out of her car and gave us two dollars!  We weren’t even panhandling – just standing there talking.  That was God!  We were able to make it to the job.”

     Mari nodded her head in acknowledgement, “That was God.”

     I had come to Mari and Jack’s camp on this beautiful, but hot, Sunday afternoon to hand out one dollar McDonalds cheeseburgers along with some cold water bottles.  Their clothes were soiled from the hot sweaty work and they had just flopped in a couple of old chairs under the shade of the trees at the camp.  They welcomed the food and drink, as they had just arrived at camp and had not eaten, yet.

     Jack remarked, “Mari and I get along so well together, it’s great.”  Then he quickly added, “Not in a sexual way or anything like that!  We just work great together.”

     “Yea, I watch over him – make sure he’s alright,” as she gently puts her hand on his arm.

"It was God!"

     Jack’s years of drinking have taken its toll on his physiology.  He has other problems, besides a liver that won’t co-operate.  I can’t picture either of them working a hard construction job in ninety degree heat, as both of them look so frail.  Mari is not over five feet, and ninety pounds; Jack is taller, though he probably doesn’t weigh much more than Mari!

     Mari has the heart of a shepherdess who lovingly watches over her sheep.  She is always concerned about others.  She asked how Stosh is doing at the Bay Side Camp.  She tells me they have broken up (for a while), which is why she is back at this camp (has it been ten days, yet?).

     I reassure her he is doing well, as I had just visited him the day before and taken a picture of him.

    She pauses a minute and then sheepishly asks, “Can I see his picture?”  She holds my iPhone with both hands and intensely looks at his picture for a moment.
      Satisfied, she then asks, “How’s my son doing?”

     I promise her that after I see him, I will stop on the way home and let her know.  I am going to his camp, next.

     By now the others in this camp are coming to join us and I hand out a cheeseburger and water to all of them.  On a weekend, this may be all they have to eat for a day or two.  I also brought them some toilet paper, small propane gas containers for their little stoves, sanitizing wipes and some t-shirts that were donated to me for this very purpose.

     Mark thanks me and goes back to cleaning his tent.  He is very polite and respectful, and doesn’t talk much.

     Jim and Michelle (both about thirty something?) come up from their camping area.  They are now together, having met some time back when they were both in Tampa.  Jim is very easy going and comfortable to talk to.  Michelle, on the other hand, is ready to share her whole life at the drop of a hat – which she does, even though no hat was dropped!  At this point, everybody else walks away!

     They both just got their bus tickets to go to Tampa to take care of business – a hearing they have to attend to continue their disability income.  I will not write here all that Michelle explained to me, as I cannot write that fast or that much in this blog.

     They both dread going to Tampa, “They are so rough to us down there.  We like it here a whole lot more.”

     “Why do you like it here better?”  I asked Michelle

    “They talk to us here.  They even waive or smile at us.  That never happens in Tampa.”

     There are others in the camp, but not all are here at this time.  The camp accepts or rejects any newcomers by voting.  This is a very pleasant, receptive and social camp.  Sometimes I will sit with them and share for a while.  In the summer, there is a gentle breeze under a canopy of oak trees. In the winter, we may sit around a campfire and share stories.  Sometimes they’re drunk and sometimes I find them sober, though sipping on a beer.  Today, they are sober…sipping on a beer.  It’s home.

      I say my goodbyes and move on to other camps while the hamburgers kept in a small icebox are still warm.

Jim and Michelle's place

     As I come every Sunday at about the same time, many of the homeless are waiting for me at the Bay Side Camp.  Bill normally comes with me, but he has been sick the past two weeks.  The homeless, bless their heart, have been praying for him. 

     I first hand out food and drink to Scott who lives in his 20-year old car which has NEVER had a tune-up!  He’s from Alabama and once a month goes back to be with his wife.  Please, don’t ask why or what.  Others gather around and I hand out more food.

     More than food, I minister the Word of God to all of them.  That is the PRIMARY purpose for my being there.  I encourage, counsel, direct, edify and otherwise love them according to the Word of God.  I pray for them right there and then if they want me to.  More often than not, they will ask for prayer.  I don’t shove it down their throat.  We keep it real.

     A deaf, middle-aged, black lady walks up and asks if she can have a hamburger, also.  I barely understand her speech, but still understand what she needs.  She and a friend are homeless and hungry.  Her friend asks me if I will come tomorrow to feed them.  I explain to them who comes Monday through Friday, who comes on Saturday, and that I come on Sundays.

     Soon, I will pray for this lady, and she will be healed and be able to hear.

     Some gather around my truck as we catch up on the latest news and stories (good and bad!).  I hand out more supplies and T-shirts, underwear, hats, etc... 

     A man comes out of his nice white, construction company truck parked next to me and walks over next to my truck.  I ask him if he would like a cheeseburger, to which he answers, “Sure!”  He is neatly dressed and doesn’t appear to be homeless.  Here’s his short story.

     He is working for a construction company, making good money.  Friday, he went to a bar and lost his wallet.  He could not pay for the hotel he had been staying at for the past two months.  With no other place to go – and no money - he’s suddenly homeless and hungry.  He says he will go to the bank on Monday and he’ll be alright.  He just found out someone found his wallet, but all the money in it is gone.  We discuss how the Lord Jesus Christ fits into all this.  He is saved and loves the Lord.  Yes, there was a lesson; the bar.

     That is how fast one can become homeless.

     This young man named Robert walks up in the heat, gets a hamburger and drink, and walks back under the shade of a park pavilion.  He is twenty-one years old, good looking, intelligent and got out of jail three or four months ago.  He is usually full of energy, considerate and relates well to others.  He loves the Lord and knows the Scriptures, although he likes to drink. Surprisingly, he is quiet and somewhat withdrawn, today.  Robert is homeless.  Robert is Mari’s son.

     Next, I drive the short distance to the Bridge Camp.

     I miss Tennessee and his dog, Foxy Lady.  He had been living under the bridge for six years!  He basically ran this camp and kept order.  About a month ago, his son drove down from Missouri and brought him back home to live with him – a very difficult adjustment to make, I’m sure.  Tennessee was in his sixties and needed to be in a safer, healthier environment.

Tennessee and Foxy Lady with friend Joe (standing) around "Christmas Palm Tree!"

     I walk over to Murphy in his white van and give him a still-warm hamburger and a drink.  His friend, Shelly, is with him and she gets food and drink also.  Murphy is the fisherman par excellence – he has no equal in the camp which is by the bay.  Sometimes they will BBQ the fish; most often, they sell them. 

     Murphy gives me the news that Tennessee is presently hitchhiking his way back!  His son allowed him only four beers a day and that was NOT going to work!  He has been homeless for the past seventeen years and adjustment back into society would be difficult, to say the least.  He would rather live under the bridge and have his beer.  It seems this camp will again have “character!”

     Gary walks up from his van and gets food, also.  He is from Alaska and very self-sufficient.  He is a tall, strong and rugged fisherman who is about 71 years old.  His van has solar electric panels, a bank of batteries, a freezer, an air conditioner, a generator, an electric bicycle and a huge, beautiful, but intimidating (though old) German Shepherd.  You could sit with Gary for hours and listen to his countless stories of adventures from Alaska to Panama, in Central America.

Gary at his Florida waterfront property (the park)

     The quiet homeless man I have seen for the past couple of months comes over for food, etc.  He has fixed himself a very nice living quarter under the bridge.  We walk back to his fishing pole which is out into the bay. 

     He begins to explain to me why he is not catching much fish, lately.  It has to do with the ecological balance in the water.  He continues, giving me a dissertation on the marine environment…plankton balance…oxygen levels…aquatic temperature differences…runoff and clarity…El Niño and other weather patterns at this time affecting the catching of fish!  I stand there amazed at his impressive knowledge of the subject. 

     I ask him, “How do you know all this?”

     “Well, I was accepted at Woods Hole Institute ‘cause I liked those subjects.  But I went to M.I.T., instead”

     “Uh…you went to M.I.T.?”  I get a lot of stories from the homeless, but he speaks the language.

     “Yes.  I spent three and a half years there, as I wanted to be an astrophysicist.  I studied that, plus a minor in physics.” 

     My eyes must have gotten wide because he added, “They tested my I.Q. and found that I was qualified.  I had the highest I.Q. on the West coast, where I was tested at the time.”

     He went on to talk of his days at M.I.T., his studies there, his favorite subjects; and otherwise completely removed all doubts that he was telling the truth.  This guy (Jack the Fisherman) is really intelligent!

     “Who would have thought I would be a fisherman, uh?”  He catches fish and sells it to a list of clients whom he calls when the fish comes out of the water.  “My kids are both over eighteen, now, so I can do what I want,” he adds.  

     Bewildered, I asked him, “So, what are you doing here?”

     “Alcohol,” he said plainly, betraying the fact that he had been asked that very same question many, many times over in the past few years.

Jack the Fisherman, Astrophysicist, with his condo in the background!

     On my way back home, I stop at Mari’s camp to give her news of her son, Robert.

     She compassionately replies, “It’s O.K. to want to be alone, once in a while.  He may need to reflect on what he’s doing and take time to think about what he wants to do and where he wants to go.  It’s O.K.”

     I will put Robert on my prayer list.

     Good night, folks, and God bless y'all.

SCROLL DOWN TO THE NEXT FIRST BLOG!

UNDER THE BRIDGE: "Al Dente!"

Stosh's primary residence by the bay

 Sunday, June 20, 2014  

     The police officer pulled up shortly after the homeless offloaded food, gas burners and cooking pots from my truck.  Today is Sunday and I had planned to hold services under the park pavilion after which I would fix a home cooked spaghetti dinner for the homeless in attendance.  Most of the officers in this town are tolerant of the homeless – some are even compassionate.  However, I am told by all the homeless that this particular officer who pulled up “has it out for the homeless.”

     The stout officer climbed out of his patrol SUV, got out a little note pad and pen, looked towards us and called over one of the homeless by name.  Stosh walked over to the officer who asked him some questions and then wrote something in his note pad.  It seems Stosh had been a witness to a possible crime in the street.

     Then the officer called Chris over; more questions; more note writing.  A well-meaning man had let Chris stay at his place overnight.  However, that man was now accusing Chris of stealing his BB gun!  Chris had no knowledge of a BB gun. End of conversation for now.

     Still standing by his SUV, the officer looked around our area.  He then walked a couple of steps, grunting a time or two as he bent over to pick up something under my truck. I walked over to see what he was doing.

     “How are you doing, officer?”  He was holding an aluminum can.

     “I thought this was a beer can,” he replied disappointingly.

     “This is one of the sodas we dropped out of the box.”  I reached over and he gave it to me.  I continued, “They’re not drinking now.”

     “Oh, there’s drinking here!  You just don’t see them,” he said assuredly.

     Again I repeated that they were all dry this morning.”  It was ten in the morning.

     “They’ll be drinking by eleven; you’ll see,” he said with fire in his eyes!

     I could see it was useless to go any further with this conversation with him.

     He continued to speak about drinking, booze, alcohol, bums.  His face was turning red as he spit out words that made him sound like an old fashion “fire and brimstone” preacher.

     I just nodded my head.

     I finally reached out my hand to shake his, “Glad to meet you, officer.”  This seemed to have taken him by surprise.

     We parted and as he got in his SUV, he continued, “You’ll see; they’ll be drunk before you know it.”

     I nodded my head again.

     As I got back to the pavilion and the six pic-nic tables under it, Stosh looked up at me with sad puppy eyes, “Yea, he caught me yesterday and had me open and pour out a pint of liquor and a six-pack.  He made me pour it out right there on the ground.  I didn’t have any money to buy any more (booze not allowed in the park).”  He sadly shook his head.  Looking to be comforted, he leaned over to his right and kissed his girlfriend, Mari, on the lips.

     There were about fourteen homeless people here this morning.  Mari was the only women here, today.  Having witnessed this before, I can fully attest that all of her five foot, ninety pound frame can handle any man here.  In fact, this little organizational dynamo can keep all of them in line at any given time – even when drunk (her or the guys)!  The men show her respect by watching over her and protecting her. 

     It’s extra hard for a woman out here in the street.

     Yes, Stosh is her person of interest, though she can’t handle being with the same person for over ten days at a time.  In fact, she can’t be in the same place for over ten days!  She is getting sheet rock work, these days.  She’ll stay with the sheet rock crew while working, so at least she has a roof above her head.  But we know that from the day she leaves to work, she’ll be back in - at the most - ten days!

     Stosh is about six feet tall, handsome, strong and about thirty-five years old.  They make a sweet couple in a sometimes challenging, rocky relationship.  But then, who isn’t challenged in any “relationship.”  Though Mari is about ten years older than Stosh, her dynamic personality makes her appear much younger.

Mari at last Summer's hamburger grillin'

    

     Though I minister to the homeless in our town every week, I might not see some of these children of God for the whole month.  But on the last Sunday of the month, they remember to show up here under this park pavilion by the bay.

     It’s 93 degrees, today, with 70% humidity.  A gentle sea breeze cools us off as we delight in the shade of the open pavilion.

     I thought they only came here for the free meal.  Perhaps they did when we first started these services a couple of years ago.  Most of them now let me know that they come also because they enjoy the service and the Word of God.  I keep the sermon short at about fifteen minutes.  At twenty minutes, I start to lose some of them.  Fifteen minutes is good.

     Today, the sermon is about worshipping God, as found in John 9:38.

     My preaching is interactive; they are free to stop me if they have a question or comment.  Some will happily chime in the rest of a scripture I start to quote.  Sometimes, one of them has a guitar and will sing Amazing Grace.  Sometimes they’re drunk, sometimes they’re not.  Today, the end of the month, they’re all flat broke.  They’re now sober!

     Either way, it’s church.  It gives them a sense of belonging; a sense of family.  Sometimes, there are young people, families, children and even a dog or two.

Music Man!

     Jack got here just before the service started.  This thin, bearded intellectual and avid reader was thirsty, hot and sweaty.

     I handed him a bottle of cold water, as I reminded him, “Jack, I could have picked you up.  I drive right by your camp on the way here.”  His camp is about three miles away.  But he was steadfast in his refusal.

     “Can’t pick up cans at 55 miles an hour!”  He collects aluminum cans for extra cash.

     He sat beside Mari, who was reading the book I had just given her - The Spark in the Street - which I wrote about this street ministry.  She was excited about the book and wanted to read it.

     Jack looked at me, “Where’s my copy?”  The book had just been published a couple weeks earlier.

     “I brought a copy just for you.”  He thanked me and gave me a hug.

     Another fellow, Gary, sitting at another pic-nic table, who happened to be reading a book at the moment also, overheard me and chimed, “And where’s mine?”

     Glenn, sitting with Gary, looked up at me.  I assured them I would get them one, also.

     I never thought they would want to read a book about “how to minister to the homeless!”  But, they see this book as being about them.  It’s also about Jesus.

     Chris suddenly got up, a little miffed about the man who had accused him of stealing a BB gun.

     “I don’t steal!”  He angrily announced, as he had been stewing about this all along.  “I’m gonna go see him right now.”  He got up and walked to his car (yes, some of the homeless have a car and live in it).  Mari quickly tried to talk him out of it.

     “Put it behind you.  Don’t get in trouble,” as she gently put her arm on his shoulder.

     “I didn’t steal no BB gun. It’s probably lost in all the junk he’s got in his house.”

     “Let the cops handle it.” 

     He really should listen to Mari.

     “Besides, I left my phone at his house.”

     “Oh.”

     Everyone slowly shook their heads as he abruptly drove away. 

Hamburger time earlier; same pavilion:  Stosh (green) sitting opposite Mari.
Music Man (standing, green)

          I put the spaghetti in the boiling water and asked, “How do y’all like your spaghetti?”

     Allen walked up and said, “Al dente, please!”  A few others joined in approval.

     I addressed the rest of the group, “I guess the rest of you just like it mushy, uh?”

    

     While the spaghetti, sauce and meatballs were cooking, I made my rounds to shake hands, give hugs and otherwise minister to every one of them.

     “Kojak, how are you feeling?”

     He looked like the Kojak on the old detective show; he was bald, stocky and social.  He had broken some ribs in a fall while walking on some rocks by the bay shore about two weeks ago.  He was in real bad shape, then.

     He moaned, “Aaaaah, still sore.  Can’t move too fast.”  He looked a little stiff.

     “Kojak, where you drunk at the time?”

     “Yes.”

     “Brother, you can’t drink and walk on those big rocks at the same time.”

     “Yea, I know.”

     “What did you learn from that?”

     “Walk around the rocks!”

     I was hopeful he would say, “Stop drinking.”  He didn’t.

Kojak on left, Stosh on right

     JJ was quietly sitting, totally absorbed in a serious task.  The connecting link of his crucifix had opened up a bit and he was afraid it would come off the chain from around his neck.  He was concentrated on fixing that important problem and was oblivious to the action around him.

    

     “Stosh, is that a new bike you have?”  Stosh gets drunk and loses bikes or has them easily stolen.

     “Yep.  A preacher man gave it to me.”

     “Uh…Stosh, is this your sixth or seventh bike, now?”  I joked.

     Everyone under the pavilion laughed and replied, “No, that’s his twelfth… or twentieth!”

     “Stosh, you look like a new and different man, today,” I said to him proudly.

     “Why’s that?”

     Mari instantly replied, “Because you’re sober!”

     Everyone laughed some more.

     Then I asked Mari, “You’ve been staying under the bridge?”  She’ll switch camps every ten days, or so.

     “Can’t sleep under the bridge; it’s too hot.”

     “So, have you got a safe place to sleep?”

     “Right here, under this pavilion…”

     I looked around

     “…on a picnic table.”

     “Oh.”

     “Last night, three of us slept behind the building over there; on the cement slab on the other side (about 200 feet away, in the park).  This morning, I woke up with a cop in my face looking at me.  I cheerfully said, smiling, ‘Good morning, officer, how are you today?’  He smiled back and said, ‘Good, thank you,’ and walked away.”

     “I guess he wanted to make sure you weren’t dead!”

     “Yep.”

     Chow time!  We say a prayer and get ready to eat.  I always make enough spaghetti so there is enough for seconds and thirds; enough, too, so they can take a bowl with them for later.

     There’s plenty of spaghetti “al dente” with rich tomato sauce and plenty of tasty meatballs (I get them in a bag, frozen).  I thickly slice the fresh loaves of French bread, made this morning at Walmart.  I dish out the spaghetti, sauce and meatballs.  They’re allowed to liberally “pour” Parmesan cheese on their spaghetti in a big Styrofoam bowl.  No one is turned away.

     Most often, there’s a brother or sister to help me out; like Bill or Barbara.

     My brother in Christ, Bill Weaver, brings water and Pepsi covered in ice in a cooler.  He was sick this weekend and could not be here.  But, being the conscientious Christian that he is, he and his wife had dropped them off at my house yesterday.  He also had individual pies of all flavors for God’s precious children.  They all affectionately call him “The Pie Man.”

Bill (right) praying for Shorty (green) and Stosh about a month ago

     Everyone eats until they’re ready to burst!”

     When it’s time, they all join in to clean up, pack up, and put everything back in my truck.  I never have to ask for help or say a thing.  They all efficiently work together to offload and load my truck back up.  It doesn’t take long at all, that way.

     I call them “my sheep.”  From time to time, they call me “Pastor.”  But mostly, they call me Jean-Luc.  However, the name I want them to remember the most is the Name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, whose precious children they are. 

     If Jesus loves them (and He does), then I love them too.

 

   Shake some hands, hug some necks, bless them in the name of Jesus and say goodbye…I’m going to miss them until next week.

     Good night, folks, and God bless y'all.