UNDER THE BRIDGE: The Greatest Need!

The homeless needs are many

Sunday, August 24, 2014

    

     The temperature today is 100 degrees and humid – which means I am not cooking.  Pizza Day!

     Today we have a church service and a meal in the shade of a pavilion at the Bay Side Camp.  It’s   usually held on the last Sunday of the month.  However, since I will be travelling the last Sunday (the 31^st), today is the day.  They were all warned as much as possible the week before, and we have a good crowd here today.

     “Hey, Kojak, how are you doing?” 

     Sitting quietly on the edge of the picnic table, he answered, “I’m OK.”

     “Wow!  That sounded convincing.  What’s the matter, Kojak?”  He’s usually upbeat and friendly.

     “I’m sober!”

     “Well, brother, we still love you!”

     I was headed back to the truck to offload the gear and food when Kojak came after me.

     “Hey, Jean-Luc, can we go get a lady named Camille at the bridge camp and bring her here?”

     “Sure, Kojak”

     “Can we do it now?”

The dog, Brianna, and Compassionate Kojak!

     He was concerned and showing a level of compassion I had not seen in Kojak before.  Though I had some boxes in the cab of my truck, I said, “Let’s go. But you’ll have to hop in the back ‘cause I have some stuff in the front seat.”

     He hopped in the back and we went the short distance to the other side of the bridge.  He pointed to me where she was and told me to drive up closer to her.  As we both got out of the truck, he came up to me and whispered, “She’s go M.S.”

     As her muscles refused to co-operate fully, she walked over to the truck with some difficulty and awkwardness of movement.  However, she was still energetically mobile.  Her mind was surely not hindered in any way as she immediately engaged me in cheerful conversation.

     I could see that getting her in the back of the truck might be a little difficult.

     Kojak quickly said, “Why don’t we move the boxes from the front to the back so that she can sit inside the cab.”

     This was a great idea, of course, and I was proud of Kojak showing so much care and attention to one of the “least of these.”

     I helped her up to the seat and closed the door.  When I sat in the driver’s seat, she put her hands over the air conditioning vents and said, “Ahhhhhh, this is great.  Boy that feels good.”

     “Camille, are you homeless?”  I asked, unbelieving that this lady with M.S. would find herself in this situation.

     Yes. She was living in her full-size van.  She and her husband were living in a house, but he suddenly got arrested for some reason.  She does not know why.  Not being financially able to stay in the house, it did not take long for her to be living in the van, in the street.  She had not spoken to her husband since he was arrested.  She can’t visit him in jail, as she does not have a valid I.D. card!  We’ll have to help her with that.

     No more home, no more husband, no more medicine for her M.S.!

     There are many people in our country who are barely 24 hours from being homeless.

     This lady, with a degree in Environmental Design and Solar Technology, had worked for the Sacramento Public Utility Department (Ca.) and was doing well…until M.S. struck her a raw deal twelve years ago.  Getting the daily shot she needs at a cost of $1,200 a month is no longer feasible.  She had been taking them for twelve years.

     If you believe the Lord can heal her, please take the time to pray for Camille.  Thank you.

     It is surprising to find her perky, positive, talkative and upbeat.  She loves the Lord Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior…and I was praying, as her Healer, also.  I understand Cojac, now, as she is very pleasant company to be with.

     We arrive back at the Bay Side Park and Kojak walks her to the shady pavilion.

Camille has M.S. but has the joy of the Lord!

     Others walk up, take charge and pick up the boxes and table which they carry and set up without my saying a word.

Stosh is always the first to help

All are eager to help carry 12 large, hot, pepperoni pizzas.
Left to right; Boudreau, JJ, John the Young

     On the way to the park, I stopped at another camp and picked up a couple of other homeless men, Chris and Darrel, and their dogs.  Chris is a homeless nerd who mines Bit Coins so he can buy Subway sandwiches!  He was featured in Wired Magazine, and our local WEAR Channel 3 news!  He used to hang out at the Palafox Camp with two or three other guys with their laptops connected to a router.  Most of our city has Wi-Fi.

     The computer camp does not drink, as their money goes to another addiction - computers, Bit Coins and gaming!

Homeless computer nerds! Chris is on the left, laying down.
Brother Bill (left) is ministering to "Mouse."  God loves the animals, also.

     “Hey, Darrel, did you get your dog for protection?”

     “No, I got it to take care of it.”

     I looked at him quizzically.

     He continued, “There were 7 to 8 dogs in this lazy, red-necky home with big people.  The dogs were all in bad shape ‘cause they weren’t takin care of them – especially this dog.  So I took her cause she was gonna be killed.  They let me.  I took her to the vet, got all her shots and medicine, and fed her well, and took care of her.”

     “Did the vet do it for free?”

     “Nope”

     “That’s kind of expensive, isn’t it?”

     “Yea.  I made money in the street (panhandled) every day and then took her to the vet.”

     The dog looked very healthy and glad to have him as her keeper.  In all my years, I have never seen a homeless person mistreat their pets.  In fact, the dogs will often get to eat before their owner does.  The homeless' dogs are the most social and loving dogs I have ever seen.

Darrel; "I got it to take care of it!"

Chris has the most social and loving Pit Bull, named Mouse, I have ever seen!

    

     After the table was set up, Michael came up to me, “Where’s the stuff to clean the table?”

     I have never seen Michael before.  This is our first meeting.  I handed him the paper towels and spray cleaner and he went right to work!  After the service he prayed a wonderful blessing over the meal and for everyone.

Michael didn't hesitate once to minister to us!

     It was also the first time to meet his friend Jack – who was a mobile art gallery!  He had some wonderful tattoo works of art all over his body.  The theme of all this artwork was…Jesus!  He willingly let me take pictures of it all and even assumed a tough guy attitude.  If I had met him on a dark street somewhere, I would have been concerned.  But, he loves Jesus enough to have Him tattooed all over him!  He not only loves his artwork, but he loves his Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

Jack is a walking art gallery!  He has "Jesus" across his belly...

and Calvary on his neck!

     John the Young, about 20 years old, sat quietly at a picnic table and did not want his picture taken.  Later in the day, I saw him working at a corner with a sign – Help Needed - Broke and Ugly!  He is not ugly, but a handsome young man.  Anyhow, the sign must have amused people because many stopped to hand him some money.

     Our other Chris was in agony, as his foot was hurting terribly.  He had his car stolen along with all his worldly belongings which were in the car.  To add insult to injury, he had to walk the ten miles back to camp – in flip flops.  His foot, which was healing from a fracture, is now swollen and hurting.  I guess his plan to work on an oil rig in Oklahoma is cancelled for now.

Please pray for Chris's foot to be healed!

     Leslie, Mari’s sister, is not homeless but comes to our service and meal to be with people she loves.  Her 36-year old son suddenly died of unknown heart problem a couple of weeks ago.  Mari and I prayed for her and I wrote down some comforting Scriptures which Mari gave her.  She had that sheet of paper inserted in her Bible on the picnic table.  She shared with us, “He is in heaven and better off.  I thank the Lord that I was able to have him for 36 years.  I miss him, but I know he is with the Lord, now.  He always talked about the Lord and witnessed to others every day.  The Lord really loved him to want him to be in heaven with Him."

     On the way home, I stopped to feed Henry some of the left over pizza.  Henry reads a lot, but he was glad to put his book down and eat some pizza.  There is a well-organized ministry in town called Loaves and Fishes which feeds and ministers to the homeless and the poor.  I served there for about a year, but Henry volunteered there for SIXTEEN years feeding the poor.  He also kept up their computers and refurbished and updated many of them over the years.

     Henry also discussed with me the chapters in my book The Spark in the Street which he really enjoys reading!  He did go to college and would have made a great college professor!

Henry; homeless, yet sixteen years ministering to the "least of these!"
He's holding The Spark in the Street!

     I gave Jack a ride back to his camp.  I did not want him to be walking in this unrelenting heat.  As we were driving, he explained that an Environmental Police officer who enforces the city codes, showed up at their camp and told them they had to clean it up!  Jack says he was very nice about it and did not kick them off the state property, but told them they had to keep it clean and trash free.

Jack (left) and Stosh (right) help carry ice-cold drinks and fruit pies.

     That morning, “Paul” came to Jack/Mari’s camp and fed everybody Wendy’s.  When he asked if there was anything else they needed, Mari answered, “Three bags of ice and lots of trash bags!”

     Not long afterwards, Paul brought the ice and 60 trash bags for them! Now they can keep their drinks cool and clean up the camp.

     Paul, know that you are very appreciated by the homeless for the love you show them and for your generosity.  Know that whatever you give them at this camp, they generously do share with other homeless people in need.  I pray to meet you one day.  Until then, may God protect you and bless you abundantly. 

     Mary said she informed him about “the” book.  I said, “Thank you, Mari, you are a good promoter.”

     She responded, “I am the Camp Liaison Officer.  It’s my job!”

Bill loves to minister to these precious children of God.

     Good night and God bless y’all.

p.s. Today’s sermon was; The Good News of the Kingdom of God!

Hey, Guys, any pizza left...pepperoni...a piece of crust...anything?

     Good night, folks, and God bless y'all

FOR THE NEXT UNBELIEVABLE BLOG!

UNDER THE BRIDGE: Dignity, by God!

Bay Side Park (Camp). Highway to the left (unseen).
Utility building to the right (unseen)

Sunday, August 17, 2014

     In the early morning, the city police officer walked up to the three homeless children of God sleeping behind a small utility building at the Bay Side Camp.  They were each wrapped up and curled up tightly in their blankets on the ground.  While telling me about this incident, Mari had her face in her hands, crying in disbelief; like a dagger had been thrust deep into her heart.

     Officer P. nudged her out of her blissful sleep, saying, “Wake up, Garbage!  It’s time to go!”

     Garbage?  Since words are spoken out of what is in the heart, it seems this officer has garbage in his heart.  This officer needs some serious sensitivity training.

     Mari looks up at me, “I can’t believe someone would call me ‘garbage.’  No one has ever called me ‘garbage’ before.”  She was very sad to start off with, as a couple days ago her 32-year old nephew had died of heart problems unexpectedly. 

     “He has left us, but he is in heaven, as he was saved,” she said assuredly.

     She couldn’t wait to see me so I would give her some Scriptures that would comfort her sister, the mother.

     “I am so glad to see you.  Leslie (her sister) is so confused over his death.  She really needs comforting.  I need Scriptures to give her.”

     “You don’t have to wait for me; God is always with you, Mari.”

     “I know.  I hear him even when He doesn’t speak.”

     That’s deep.

     Yes, they are homeless, but not deserving of such an insult.  Jesus Christ willingly died on the cross so that these homeless people may be saved and become sons and daughters of the Sovereign God.  They are worth so much to Him that He gladly suffered the cross for them.  And now, having believed on the Son of God as their Savior, they are saints of God, made holy by the Grace of God.

     Officer P…Jesus died for you, also.  And He can heal you, too.

     It seems the officers are trying to clear the city of the homeless without providing an alternative safe place for them to go.  When the homeless are told to leave an area, they go to another place.  When they are later told to move from that place, they go back to the area they were at in the first place.  This has been going on for as long as anyone can remember.

     Anyhow, hardly anyone uses the Bay Side Park, as a noisy four-lane highway goes right next to it.  I have

never seen all the pavilions used – even on July 4^th!  Most people drive THROUGH the park to get to the drive-on fishing bridge.

     At the Bay Side Camp, Tom (not real name) announced he was leaving and going back home to Alabama to be with his wife.  Hooray for him!   We will miss him, but we always rejoice when the homeless are finding a home and getting their life in order.  We have ministered to him for the past year, or so.  He is saved and we pray he has grown in the love of Jesus.  Take that home with you, Tom.  We’ll miss you, brother.  (Tom didn’t want his picture taken, as no one at home in Alabama knew he was homeless)

     Chris’s broken foot is almost healed and he is ready to get back to work.  He knows someone in Oklahoma who will hire him to work on an oil rig.  He always knew his homelessness was temporary.  He needs to get back to work quickly so he can keep his car!  God bless you, Brother Chris.  We made sure his salvation.

     Suzanne is healed. Praise the Lord.  Yes, I did buy her antibiotics for her staph infection on her lower leg…and the Lord healed her.  Her lower leg was bright red and swollen.  The Lord can, and does heal instantly, but I believe doctors are also a blessing from the Lord, as is medication.  She could have easily lost her leg (if not her life) to that infection.  I rejoice to now see her so perky, talkative and alive.  We love you Sister Suzanne.  God bless you.

Healed and telling everyone.  Glory to God!

     We hardly see sweet Alice (our homeless deaf lady) anymore, as she is volunteering helping the poor somewhere in town.  I could not find out exactly where.  I hope she shows up at our service and dinner next Sunday, as I bought her a pair of needed size 8 tennis shoes.  I’m glad you are serving the “least of these,” Sister Alice.  God bless you!

     It seems Tony, in his late fifties, might not be with us too much longer.  It might be his turn to be in jail for a while.

     “They just happen to check me…and found this really small amount that didn’t amount to anything.”

     I don’t ask what ‘they found’!”

     He continues, “Man, I don’t want to go to jail.  I told my lawyer I’ll do community service.  She asked me how much I’m willing to do.  I said…as much as they want me to, as long as I don’t go to jail.  I’ll talk against drugs as much as they want me to!

     To punctuate this statement, he reached for his water bottle and pulled it out of his pocket along with something which fell on the ground right between him and us.  Brother Bill and I, and Tony, quietly stood there looking down at that spot on the ground.

     Starting to laugh at the irony of it all, I asked, “Tony…is that…a JOINT you just dropped on the ground?”

     By then, both Bill and I were chuckling, trying not to burst out with laughter.

     “Ok, Ok, just laugh at me.  You gonna judge me, now?  What…you don’t care about me, anymore?  I’ve been smoking these since I was 14 years old,” as he stooped down to carefully pick it up between his thumb and forefinger, and delicately put it back in his pocket. “So what, you hate me for that?  Why are you laughing?”

     “We love you, brother.  It’s just ironic, that’s all.  We’re talking about it…and…there it is.”

     By now, we could not help but to unleash unbridled laughter.  Bob walked away and we started to hand out food to the other approaching homeless men.

     I don’t visit the homeless in jail, though they would appreciate it.  That alone would be a full-time ministry!

     Shelly has been banned from the Bridge Camp.  Murphy and others announce that peace had been restored to the camp. Murphy?  Yes, Murphy is out of jail and back with the camp.  But isn’t it Murphy who was arrested for beating up on Shelly?

     “Who told you I beat up on her?

     “Shelly did”

     Everyone had a good laugh about that one.

     “Then how come I was the one who was all cut and scratched up and she didn’t have ANY marks on her?” retorted Murphy.  “Anyhow, when I go to court, she will testify on my behalf, and have the charges thrown out.”

     Ahhh, the evils of liquor…and stories…and rumors!

     The day Murphy was released from jail, he had a heart attack!  He had to have double by-pass surgery to repair the blockage.

     He sneered, “I told you the food in jail was bad!”

     Can you love them…can you not judge them, as officer C. did?  Or is your life so sanitized by the world and you are so proper that you think YOU’RE too perfect to love these saints of God?  There are none perfect, no, not one.  We all come short of the glory of God.  Jesus, who is perfect, loves them perfectly. 

      Now, let’s go to Jack and Mari’s Camp where action never ceases and stories abound.  Jack gingerly approaches us, leaning to one side, as we give him his food.

     “I fell…hurt my side real bad…can’t move too much.”  He lifts his T-shirt to expose a bad scrape/bruise which looks like a giant nebula of many colors below his left armpit.  I didn’t ask how he did it and he didn’t volunteer.  Beer may have had something to do with it.

     Then Jack carefully pulls his T-shirt back down, takes a careful breath, and adds, “Don is coming back.  He’ll be out of jail this week.”  Don has a wonderful area of the camp.  It is the most beautiful camp site I have ever seen.  He is a perfectionist.

Don's amazing place at Jack/Mari's Camp

      As we sit down and chit chat, I notice a scar on Mari’s face I had not seen before. 

     “What happened there, Mari?”  I could see a story in that scar that would not disappoint.

     When Mari was in jail, last year, it was noticed that she had a spot to the right of her nose which seemed to be a skin cancer.  The jail clinic scheduled for her to have it removed by a dermatologist.  She was escorted in handcuffs and foot shackles; rattling her chains and turning heads all the way up to the tenth floor of the medical complex.  I just had the same procedure done (though not in chains) and understood what she had experienced.

    “The doctor said he had to make a two inch excision and remove some of my skin.  I said that didn’t bother me as long as he takes all the freckles from the skin he removes and puts them back on my face.  Don’t remove my freckles!”  She laughed heartily.

     With her police escort with her at all times, she was laid on the operating room table…in shackles!  The good doctor thought that was truly a unique experience and made light of it.

     He comically whispered in her ear, pretending the escorts could not hear, “Do you want to go to lunch with me after this?”

     She stopped laughing, paused, and said, “He was a very good doctor.  He had a great sense of humor, too.”  I read there that he respected her dignity in spite of her circumstances.

     “What is his name?”  I asked.

     “Doctor G…”

     “No, you’re kidding?  That’s my doctor!” 

     How ironic.  In fact I had an appointment with him the very next day.  How strange is that?

     Jack and Mari shared something with me they thought strange.  A man drove up and came into their camp, gave them food and a large, white icebox with all sort of things in it they might need.  He did not stick around but said he would be back.

     “You know, Jean-Luc, he did everything according to your book.  And the things he gave us are the things you listed in your book that we need.”  Jack concurred, as they both had read the book.

     “We have enough stuff here to share with everyone! Praise God!"

     It warmed my heart to think people are reading my book and this blog…and acting on it. It should not surprise me, as this is the explicit purpose for which they were written.

Mari:  "A man named Paul dropped off this icebox with all kinds of food and things we needed!
Praise God!  Thank you Jesus!"

     Off we went to the Palafox Camp to see John, James and Henry, and others.

     After getting a John hug, I ask him,

     “John, didn’t you get that prosthesis fixed yet?”  It still laid next to him on his wheel-chair whereas it should be on his lower left leg, allowing him to walk around freely.

     “Nope, still working on it.  I got all new clothes, though.”

     “Awesome, you look great, brother.”

     I tell them about the church service and meal we are having at the Bay Side Camp next Sunday.  On my way there, I will pick him up (and anyone else) and take him there.  They actually look forward to the service part of that day.

     John then says that other people had stopped to either feed them or give them things before we came along.  He said they were doing the same thing we were doing.  He said there had been more people than usual coming to help them.

     James the music man was sitting on the next park bench strumming his guitar when I told him about the service next week.  He said,

     “You know, two men stopped by here today and invited us to church.  They said they would come and pick us up right here.  They even said we’d get a meal.  They didn’t have to say that because we are INTERESTED in going to church, not just in getting a meal.  If there was no meal, we would still have gone to church with them.”

     “That’s right,” nodded his friend.

We WANT to go to church! 

     Don’t forget, saints of God, the spiritual welfare of the homeless is first and foremost in this ministry.

     “James, do you mind if I put your picture in my blog.  There are people in 26 countries reading this blog.”

     Well, that really shook him up right there and then.  He sat up straight and exclaimed,

     “TWENTY-SIX COUNTRIES!  You gonna put my picture in 26 countries?”  He started playing the guitar with much more gusto, and asked, “You gonna be my manager?”

26 countries?

     As Brother Bill and I walked back to my vehicle, Henry walked up smiling and happy to see us.  Henry is a reader and, in fact, attended college quite a while back for three years.  And it shows.  I always enjoy speaking with Henry, discussing the latest current events.

     I used to carry a variety of books for the homeless to read, and Henry was always there to go through the list.  He usually likes adventure or war stories.  I don’t carry many books anymore, but I did have a copy of my book, though I did not think he would be interested in it.

     To my surprise, his eyes got big and his countenance lit up.

     “Yea, I sure want to read it.  Awesome!”

     It never ceases to amaze me that the homeless want to read about ministering to the homeless!  Most of them here have passed around a handful of copies I have given them.  Many of the homeless we minister to have read it.  Amazing!  Glory to God!

     The next day, Monday, I was in my doctor’s office for him to check on a procedure he had done on my face.  I told him he was highly respected in my community.  He looked at me, intrigued.

     I continued, “One of your former patients has nothing but praise for you.”

     I knew he would ask, “Who could that be?”

     “Mari Lee H…”

     Well, if that didn’t bring an instant smile on his face…followed by a chuckle…then outright laughter.  Yes, of course, he remembered.

     “And, how…are you…connected to Mari?”

     I shared about Mari, what we do in this ministry, and otherwise witnessed to him on the love of Jesus Christ.

     Mari has that effect on people.  One day soon, the Lord will heal her mind, soul and body.  She will be very useful to the Lord and she will serve Him powerfully in the upcoming street revival.

The very social camp dog, Brianna, everyone loves and spoils!

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

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UNDER THE BRIDGE: The Lazarus Issue

Sunday, August 10, 2014

     Cardboard made a great insulator between him and the ground.  The harshness of the dirt and twigs - or concrete - covered in this easily available padding made the earth more receptive and more comfortable when laying down on it.  Add a blanket to this formula and it doesn’t get much better than this…when you’re homeless.  A sleeping bag is a great step above that, but too warm in the summer time.

     He would sleep in this manner night after night – even when it rained.  He knew there was no other place to go.  He would pull the blanket tighter around him and maybe throw a sheet of plastic over his “bedroom.”  Yes, the cardboard would get soggy, but it would dry sooner or later.  Then he would just lay the old blanket over the cardboard and sleep on it, instead of using it for cover. 

     The old cardboard and the blanket would so very gradually attract bugs and mildew that he never noticed the pungent odor and the squirming little black spots on his blanket.  Neither did he concern himself with the red spots on his legs when he would wake up in the early morning.  Gradually, these red spots grew in size and changed colors to blue and black.  When he would receive his meager disability deposit at the end of the month, he figured he would find a place to clean up and he would be alright.

     However, the beer readily consumed his disability check.

     A generous soul gave him some sanitizing wipes which helped, but did not remove the festering infectious spot on his left lower leg.  After a couple months, not even the beer would kill the unbearable pain in his leg.  He had to find relief.  He went to the local church clinic for the homeless, which referred him to a doctor at another clinic, which referred him to a hospital, which referred him to a surgeon.

     The surgeon had to amputate his left leg below the knee.  They provided him with a simple prosthesis; and he was returned to the street from whence he came. 

     Now, I know that as you read this, you have all kinds of wonderful solutions that would have prevented such a calamity.  But John has issues, as we all do.  However, his issues are serious enough to handicap him.  His issues make it hard for him to move forward and better his situation and his life.  John is one of 1400 homeless people with issues in our city and county.

     I just saw John today for the first time in four and a half months.  We hugged tightly like long lost brothers when I found him in the street in a wheel chair in the shade of a colorful, pink Crepe Myrtle.  And brothers we are.  John loves the Lord as much as he is sure of his salvation, having had all his sins forgiven by the blood of Jesus on that old rugged cross. 

“John, where have you been the past 4 ½ months?

“I been in jail,” he stated mater-of-fact.”

“What were you in jail for?” I asked, surprised.

“This guy robbed me at my camp.”

“And…you found him…and…you beat him up?”

He looked me straight in the eye, but did not answer me.

“You glad to be out?”

“Oh yea, oh yea!”

     Contrary to common belief, jail is not welcomed by the homeless.  The roof above their heads and a dry bed does not equal the freedom they have in the street.  Their main complaint is the terrible food…not to mention the lack of beer.

     It took me a long time to get to know John; about a year of ministering to him every week.  But when he finally let me in, I found a loving, gentle man with a heart for God.  When that man gives a hug, you know he means it.  He is very strong, with the short stocky build and large hands of a boxer, though lately he has lost weight. The Lord has put a love in our hearts for His precious child whom God loves so much.  My brother in Christ Bill and I have a close relationship with John.  John loves Bill to death – literally, as he hugs poor old Bill so tight every time he sees him.

     Though he had been drinking, one day, Bill and I asked him if we could pray for him.  After a short prayer for his well-being, he said HE now wanted to pray.  Out of that man’s heart and mouth came the sweetest, most touching prayer which was not for himself but for others he knew and for whom he was concerned.  Certainly, his prayer was heard and received by God in heaven above.  It put tears in my and Bill’s eyes.

     Today, I find him in a wheel chair which a charity had provided for him.  Next to him, on the wheel chair, is his prosthesis which he lifts up and proclaims, “This thing needs fixin.”

"This thing needs fixin'!"

     Though I asked him how I could help, he replied that it was all taken care of and he was going to get it fixed tomorrow, Monday.  He was also going to get some new clothes given to him on that day. Thank God for generous and Godly souls in our town.  I handed him a couple of cheeseburgers for which he was very thankful. 

     I asked him if there was anything he needed that I could get him. Anything at all.

     No, nothing.  Nothing.

     With a big smile on his face, he reached up from his wheel chair and gave me a big ‘ol John hug, holding on to my neck tightly for a long time, releasing me only when he remembered I may have a need to breath. 

     When I left, I felt that I was the one that had been ministered to.  That’s how God works.  The more you give to God, the more He gives back!  Glory to His Holy Name!  John and I will walk on streets of gold, one day.  Praise the Name of Jesus Christ!

“At (the rich man’s) gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table.  Even the dogs came and licked his sores.  The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side.  The rich man also died and was buried.  In hell where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side.”  Luke 16:30    



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

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UNDER THE BRIDGE: The Federal Law of the Tracks!

Under the Bridge: Stosh's place

Sunday, July 27, 2014

     “What do you mean you yanked the urethral catheter out?  And you really shouldn’t talk to the doctor like that, Mari, they’re just trying to help you!”

Mari, Mari!

     “Ain’t nobody putting one of them tubes in my bladder!”

     “Why did you have to have one, anyhow?” I ask her.

     “They thought I had a bruised kidney.”

     “Pray tell, Mari, why did they think you had a bruised kidney?”

     When Mari gets something in her mind, you might as well just let her go with it.  To try to restrain her in any way would be like trying to hold two fighting mad, scratching, biting, wiggling wild cats with your bare hands. This otherwise gentle lady can gain a hundred pounds and a bucket full of adrenaline within about five minutes - something the emergency room doctor did not understand.

     This is how it all started.

Railroad bridge to Enchanted Gilligan's Island!

     The railroad bridge is like a magic connection to the enchanted “Gilligan’s Island.”  The island has white sandy beaches and lush, green trees and palm trees.  There, people leave you alone; you can drink, as it is not a public park; and the cops don’t usually go there.  If you’re homeless or a boater, it’s a great getaway just three minutes walking distance from the Bay Side Camp.

     Of course, the magic of it all stops if a train is coming around the corner.  If you happen to get caught on this very narrow bridge during this unfortunate moment, you would just lean back against the outer edge railing and suck in your stomach as much as you can, as one train wagon after another goes noisily by.  Oh, and hang on to your beer!  Hopefully, the train will go by without snagging any protrusions of yours, thus dragging you down the tracks with it.

     One other way to lose the magic of the bridge is if the cops catch you crossing it!  Yes, you get a big fat ticket, if not jail time for such a bold move on “Federal Property,” as the railroad tracks are.  The standard procedure, if apprehended or called by the cops, is to jump off the bridge into the water whose tidal current will carry you away from the cops.  However, this could be counter-productive if you are swept out to sea.  But at least, you won’t get a ticket!

     Mari was crossing the bridge with her friends at such a time when the “magic” was still there, and “enchanted” times on “Gilligan’s Island” held great promises of drinking and freedom.  As the drinking had already started a while back and it was getting dark, everyone was slowly and cautiously walking on the railroad tracks.

The Magic Connection and "Thump" beach!

 

     Suddenly, lights were flashed at them from the other end of the bridge where they had started; blue lights, red lights, bright white lights.  Over the loud police speakers, they heard, “Come back to this end and get off the bridge immediately!”

     Someone - not the brightest or most sober one - yelled, “Jump in the water!”  So, according to Emergency Plan B, all four of them jumped.

     Splash!  Splash!  Splash!  Thump! 

     Thump?

     Yes, you see, Mari was almost at the end of the bridge where the water ends and the sand begins.  She thought she was still over the water and hadn’t thought to look down before jumping.  The cops called; someone yelled, “Jump!”  Her “fight or flight” response was “flight.”  She jumped.  She landed with a “thump” on her side on the “enchanted” beautiful, white sands of Gilligan’s Island.

     The cops had to be called to the ER because she had not sobered up completely, yet, and…well…nobody was going to stick a tube up to her…bladder.  She got up and said she was leaving – something doctors have not been taught how to handle in Medical School.

     They tried to restrain her; poor souls.

     She was walking through the hospital parking lot when the cops arrived.  She was not breaking any laws at this point so there was nothing they could do.  One nice officer, however, did give her a ride back home – to the Bay Side Camp.  Bless that officer, oh Lord.

     Don’t judge.  Don’t ask questions.  Just love them.

From railroad bridge, looking at Bay Side Park.

    

     It was not Mari’s turn to go to jail that week; it was Jersey’s turn!

     While at Bay Side Camp, Jersey immodestly emptied his bladder behind a tree.  Someone at the park saw him and called the cops.  He was arrested.  It’s that simple.  Of course, drinking has something to do with just about everything, here.

     I must briefly remind our readers what our main purpose to the homeless is.

1.      Lead them to salvation

2.      Encourage them in the Lord

3.      Disciple them to be used by the Lord where they are

     Our purpose is certainly not to judge or condemn them.  They know they have issues that seriously handicap some of them.  Why tell a handicapped man in a wheel-chair, “Hey, you’re in a wheel-chair!”  How rude and disrespectful.  We love them in the name of Jesus Christ, because Jesus himself loves them (Matthew 25:40).  Most of the homeless are loving and respectful of each other and very respectful of what we are doing for them.

     So, what are we doing for them, today?

     Today is the last Sunday of the month when I hold a “service” for them and feed them a home cooked meal – usually spaghetti with sauce and meat balls, fresh French bread, desert and soft drinks.

     However, because it is over 90 degrees and 90% humidity, I am serving pizza, this time.  No cooking today.  They will each get three slices of Little Caesars large pepperoni pizza.  If there should be some left over, they can take some with them to eat later, as it keeps well.  Bill brought them fruit pies for desert and sodas to drink.

     Kojak, who once was a chef, frowned, “What do you mean no spaghetti?” 

     I think they all like the gas stoves, the steam from the boiling water, the spaghetti and sauce cooking, the slicing and the scent of the fresh, yeasty loaves of French bread.  It must give them a sense of “kitchen;” of family dinner; of togetherness.

     However, today we’ll just have to all huddle around the pizza boxes, hold hands and sing “Kumbaya!”

From L. to R.: JJ, Stosh, John, Chris (white T-shirt), Tina and Kojak

 “All right, let’s all gather around and let’s first have the food which is most important – the Word of God!”

     I started this about a couple of years ago and many now tell me they would come to get together and hear the Word of God even if there was no food.  This is their church.  All 25 of them sit down at the picnic tables and look up expectantly…including the dogs!

     “Today, by popular demand (Mari), we will hear about the book of Esther.”

Mike: Haven't I seen you in a movie somewhere?

     My preaching/teaching is interactive; they can ask questions, make comments, etc., as long as it is not disruptive.  If someone is disruptive, they all get on him to be quiet!  The book of Esther is an exciting story which they follow with rapt attention.  Mike was right into the story, following the plot excitedly like a little child.  Jack the Intellectual was smiling at the understanding of the meaning of the Word of God.

     Tony said something I didn’t quite hear.  Everyone turned to him and, in unison, told him, “Be quiet!”

     Today, I spoke a little longer, as it seemed they were enjoying the sermon about Esther.

     There is always a call for salvation.  The Lord has always met us and blessed us at our services.  Today, they’re all sober; I get a double blessing!

Bill and Mari

     Bill asks who will pray and thank the Lord for the meal.  Mari speaks a sweet prayer from the heart to which all answered…amen!

     I wanted to minister to all of them and take some pictures and hear their stories.  Bill took over the serving of the pizza, as everyone got in line to be served.  Thank God Bill has the gift of helps.  He’s always there when you need him.  I, and all the homeless, thank the Lord for this man of God.

     He didn’t need the pizza cutter I so graciously offered him, as he told me the pizza slices separated easily in his gloved hands.  You got it, Brother Bill, run with it…you know what you’re doing…and he busily served everyone with a smile on his face and love in his heart!

Dinner after church, with Hanna, the dog, waiting for handouts

     “Theresa, how are you coping?”  Her husband, Jersey, is the one who is in jail, this week. Though they are homeless and sleep in the car, she works in a nursing home as a Nurse’s Assistant.  There are many homeless who do not drink at all, and Theresa is one of them.

     “I have to go to work right after I eat.”

     “You like what you’re doing?” I ask.

     She proceeds to explain an important part of herself.  “I love old people and old veterans.” she says emphatically, “It is my mission from God, my Lord and Savior, to take care of our seniors.  The Lord has put deep compassion in my heart for them.  I love to take care of them.”  She says this plainly and simply, very becoming of a humble servant of the Lord.  In the service, I had talked about them being discipled; about their “ministry.”  As a soft spoken, humble sweetheart in Christ, she exemplified service to Jesus.

     “When will Jersey be out of jail?”  I asked.

     “That should just be a three-day thing.”

     Then she briefly tells me how people around her give her a hard time about being with him.

     “They don’t understand that I love him so much.”

Theresa and Jersey

     Sitting at the same table with Theresa is Alice, who is writing in her notebook.  She is deaf.  I come up behind her and give her a great big hug and bless her in the name of Jesus.  While I’m hugging her, I notice that her shoes are totally worn out and falling off her feet.

     “Do you need some shoes?”

     She looked at me quizzically.  I write the question in her book.  She nods her head in agreement – size 8 she writes next to my question.  O.K. we’ll have to put her on the list.

L. to R.: Shy Suzanne with staph infection on leg, Theresa, Alice (who is deaf)

     The other lady at the table has her head bowed down, reading her bible.  A man approaches me and tells me that she has a “staph” infection and cannot afford the six dollar antibiotic prescription.  She shows me her red lower leg which is inflamed.

     “Do you drink?”  I asked her.

     “No, I don’t,” she quietly answered.

     “I don’t want the money to go to anything else – not beer or anything like that.

     “It won’t,” she whispered.  She pulls out the doctor’s notes and the prescription for the antibiotic and hands them to me.  I look them over and ask her, “I can’t take you right now – maybe in an hour.  Do you have someone to take you to the pharmacy?”

     “Yes, I can go right now” she answers softly.

     I don’t normally hand out cash, but I give her a ten dollar bill.  Then I lay my hand on her shoulder and pray for her healing right there and then.  God bless her.

     I quietly go over to Mari.  “Mari, how’s your kidney and your side, now?”

     “I’ll be fine…” 

     “How’s Robert (her 21-year old son) doing?”

     “He’ll be in jail until the 29^th.  It’s kind of good for him to be in there and sober up.  He’s going to have to do something with his life when he comes out. 

     She pauses for a moment and then adds, “Sometimes I want to cry, but mostly I pray.”

     After about a couple hours of eating and fellowshipping, it’s time to go.  I’m going to miss them until I see them next time.  John will be riding with me and I will drop him off near his camp by the railroad tracks.  He shares with me that he has lost his glasses, which makes it hard for him to work, as he is legally blind and can’t see much!  His two bosses will chip in to get him a new pair.

     I drop him off at Jack’s camp, which is near the railroad tracks. Beaming, he showed me the new pair of jeans Bill had given him.

     “Is there anything else you need, John?”

     “I sure could use some bug spray.”  The mosquitoes are plentiful and very active in these woods.

     “Sure, John.”  As I went back in my truck, the mosquitoes were already biting me.  I thought I would not wait to get him the bug spray next week, but would come back and bring him some today.

John (left), Jack the Intellectual (center), Patrick (right)

     I left Walmart with the bug spray and went back to John’s camp.  I turned off the main road unto a neighborhood road and then drove for a quarter mile along the railroad tracks to the camp, which is well hidden in the trees.

   “Hello!”  I always announce myself before walking in a camp.  This is somebody’s home.  John wasn’t there but Patrick was, and I handed him the bug spray, as they all share.

     “Hey, thanks a lot, Jean-Luc.  Most of my money goes to bug spray!”  We chit-chat for a couple of minutes and then I leave.  I back up to a gravel railroad crossover, and head back down along the railroad tracks to the main highway.

     I had not driven a block on the main, four-lane highway when a police cruiser’s blue lights came up behind me and he pulls me over.  By the time I pull over and stop, there were three cruisers with all blue lights flashing surrounding my truck!  It was an impressive show of our men in blue – well…green in this 

case.

     One officer slowly comes up along my truck and cautiously eases himself up to my window.  With his

 hand on his holstered hand gun he nervously asked, “What were you doing on the railroad tracks?”

The scene of the crime!

     So that’s what was bothering them, I thought.  I simply answered, “Visiting the homeless.”

     “What?”  That didn’t seem to register with him.

     “I brought this homeless man some bug spray.”

     “What?”  He clearly had not thought of such a reason to be on the tracks.

     “And…where are you going next?”

     “To the next camp, to give them some bug spray.” I simply answered.

     Still with his hand on his holstered gun, “It’s a Federal Law…you can’t drive on the tracks.”

     “I didn’t know that, officer.”

     Again, he asked, “What were you doing on the tracks?”

      I point at the plastic Walmart bag next to me on the truck seat before reaching for it so he wouldn’t get nervous and take his gun out of his holster and hurt someone.  I take out a couple cans of bug spray out of the bag.  As I reached for the bag, I look around and notice that my truck was surrounded by a half dozen men in green, all with their hands on their holstered guns. 

     “I give these to the homeless, and I’m going to the next camp to give these out.”

     “You drove on the tracks, right?” he insisted.

     “Yes, to get to John’s camp.”

     “You drove OVER the tracks, is that right?”

     “Officer, I’ve been driving over railroad tracks all my life.  I didn’t know that was a problem.”

     “I mean…at crossings…you can.”

     Then I thought of showing him the book I had written about the homeless.  I point to my glove box so none of the officers with their hands on their holstered guns would be spooked and take their guns out of their holsters and hurt each other.  As I reach for the glove box, I notice a sizable female officer at my passager window with her hand on her holstered gun.  She is looking at me and smiling, as if all this was comical to her. 

     I carefully take my book out of the glove box and hand it to the officer at my driver’s side window.

     “I wrote the book on how to minister to the homeless, The Spark in the Street.”

     He took the book.  “You wrote this book?” he asked, surprised.

     “Yes.”

     Gazing at the front cover of the book, he asks again, “You’re the author of this book?”

     “Yes, officer, I wrote the book about our ministry to the homeless in our city…Pensacola.  It’s our manual of sorts.”

     He stares at the front cover for a while before briefly looking at the back cover.

     He finally releases his grip on his holstered gun and starts looking at the book, now firmly in both hands.  He carefully looks at the table of contents.  This must have taken him by surprise because he slowly thumbs through the book, stopping at a page now and then and reading a few lines of it.  It appears as if he hadn’t seen a real book in quite a long time.  He stops at a page near the back of the book and becomes quite involved in reading it.  His facial tension relaxes, somewhat, and he becomes calmer and more relaxed overall.

     “Officer, you can have this book if you wish.  It’s my gift to you.”

     He looks at me for a moment, blinks his eyes twice, and slowly hands me back the book.

     “Let me see your driver’s license.”  I hand it to him.  “Is this your truck?”

     “Yes.”  He did not ask for my registration.  He carries my driver’s license back to his cruiser to check things out.  The other officers start relaxing a little and begin speaking amongst each other as if they all enjoyed seeing each other again.  “So, Jim, how’s your wife doing…?”

     After a couple of minutes, the officer comes out of his cruiser.  I could hear them and I could see them all in my rear view mirror.

     Thinking he was speaking in a whisper I could not hear, another officer asked him, “So, whadaya think?”

     “I’m gonna let him go.”

     “What!  He was on the tracks!”

     “I believe him,” he simply said.

     “It’s a federal law.  Why do you believe him?”

     “He wrote the book…” the officer pensively answered, “…he wrote the book.”

     He walks back to my window, looks at me for a couple of seconds, gives me back my license and quickly asks,

     “Where do you live…what is your date of birth…who is the truck registered to?”

     I gave him the answers as fast as he asks them.  I think he just needed to assert himself one more time…because…well…that’s what police officers do.

     He reminds me one more time about the Federal Law of the Tracks and after about five seconds of staring at me, says, “You can go.”

     Which I did. 

     God bless America.

Hey, guys, looky here - pizza pizza!

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

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