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.

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