~ 24th Day ~
Musical Ride...Family...Survivors...San Diego...For One.
Slept in again. Maybe my body knew this would be the last night in a real bed as I was leaving the comforts of a home to hit the road again this afternoon. Spent some time with my Aunt Sandy as I savored a bowl of oatmeal. I retreated back to the guest bedroom to work on a day post for a couple hours. This was also a time of preparing my heart and mind for the next mission fields... praying and asking God to prepare the hearts of those I would cross paths with. He already knew which roads I'd travel, where I would set my backpack down, the souls which seeds would be planted into, and the places I would park Tumbler to rest those nights. I love that my job isn't to plan this trip... rather to follow His leading and listen to His voice.
When I emerged from the bedroom, my little, second cousins who had slept over after going to the Bowl with us, were playing in the living room. This was the first time I'd met them and their little sister who wasn't old enough to be part of the slumber party. I was to take them back to Beaumont, CA (love that my cousin Beau lives in Beaumont), so they were all excited for the adventure in Cousin Katie's truck, Tumbler. I was excited for this bonding time as well as spending some time with at Beau and his wife Laura once we made the 30min journey. It would not be a quiet one.
The girls were strapped in the backseat and we headed out. I put on some upbeat songs of the group Gungor, and all 3 of us were bouncing to the beats, doing hand motions with the drums, and smiling at the sheer simplicity of the "sounds of music." I always keep my Chrometa 12 harmonica in my purse and have 3 smaller Horners in truck. I gave each the girls a harp, and this was the end of our conversations between the music of Gungor. Genovese and Evangeline were mesmerized by the music they were now making themselves. The younger one, Evangeline, understood the exhaling and inhaling of her breath to make different notes... Genovese did not grasps this. She kept blowing for around 3 minutes, and suddenly put it down along with her head on my backpack next to her. "My head feels funny." I had to stifle my chuckled, cause I knew she was lightheaded from not inhaling the notes. The younger one just kept playing... all the way till we reached their house. Genovese tried joining in the freestyle song her little sister was jamming out, but again, was left out of breath and dizzy. Now I felt bad for my little cousin, so her and I played percussion against our legs with the Gungor song I had turned up. Love these 2 cherubs.
We had some trouble finding their house cause I didn't have an address to punched into the GPS. We got a tour of their subdivision, and finally their dad's custom built, silver Bug was spotted. They wanted to keep the harmonicas and as much as I wanted to, I played them often while in my truck. Later, I suggested to my cousin Beau, the cool "stocking stuffer" of a harp for each of the amateurs. It's cool seeing potential musical talents at such a young age. Though Genovese's instrument may not be the harmonica, she would find her own bend of notes with a different piece.
Laura and Beau live in a quiet part of town in just moved into their beautiful house. The aroma of sage and other sweet smelling incense filled my nostrils when I walked in... Love the smell of sage and Nag Champa! After greeting my shy littlest 2cd cousin, Annaliese, we all gathered around the island counter in their kitchen. Strong coffee was made and the conversation grew with momentum (both from the caffeine and the topics). It was great catching up with my family whom hadn't been seen in so many years. Beau reminded me that our paths had crossed about 5yrs ago down on the Woodstock square, but I couldn't remember this merging... I was still deep in my addiction at this time. These times of not remembering moments are hard for me to ponder, but they raise my level of gratitude for where I am today. I would be able to recall this memory made with Beau and his beautiful family, and that was another gift of this present day.
I didn't have any rocks pre-scribed so I went out to Tumbler and made a small rock that held a big meaning. "Family Forever" is such a true statement... and there were many reasons I chose these words. Saying "see ya later" to them was hard, for I wanted to spend more time with them. But the road to the next mission field was calling me. Still, I wouldn't leave this one when I planned.
When I got back to my cousin Brianne's (Beau's sister), no one was home. She had gone to work on setting up her classroom for the near-drawing first day of school and my aunt was at her house. I wrote a few paragraphs of a day post and was about to pack up my pillow to go say goodbye to my uncle and aunt before I hit the road, but the cable guy saw me packing and asked if he could finish the installing. Guess I wasn't to leave just yet, for he was there for over an hour... so I did some more typing. Once he had the right wires in the right place, he left which allowed me to lock the doors behind the both of us.
I went over to my aunt and uncle's house and was grateful for more time to talk with Sandy. I love all my aunts on my dad's side, but Sandy has always had a special place in my heart. We share a bond that is deeper than our love for the game of Rummikub. I love the Schuett family... they are "Forever Family."
It was late in the afternoon, and though I wanted to get to San Diego by the evening, there was something I still needed to do... rather someone I wanted to find. Terrance (the homeless man I befriended last night) was downtown San Clemente somewhere, and i knew he would be found before I left this stellar city. I found a parking spot near the "Bowl" area where I'd met him, and a park bench was where I dropped my backpack and pulled out some rocks to scribe. After a few were made, I received a text from my aunt saying, "I just saw your friend Terrance... he is in a park off Main St." This was great news cause I wouldn't have found him had she not spotted him. The other cool thing was that my aunt's eyes were now seeing the people who she might not have noticed before. Don't know if I was more full of joy to know I'd see Terrance, or that Terrance had been seen.
Though there were a scattering of people at the park I was at, they each seemed to be in other worlds of the books they were reading. Didn't want to take them out of the mental places they were, just to give them a rock, so I packed up and headed to the Main Street park where my newest friend was said to be. The downtown area is so cute, with little shops selling trinkets, clothes, coffee and books. Peering in the windows was interesting, but the eyes of my heart were set on something else worth far more value than a material souvenir. I spotted the familiar black hat and baggy white shirt with black vest that Terrance had on last night... this might have been one of only a few outfits he owned. People often comment on the strong foul smell of homeless people, but it's as if they aren't thinking this through. These people (for years, I was one of them) don't have daily access to washers and dryers as we do, and showers are the same. I often am reminded of the days where I'd go weeks without bathing. And today, while I shower often (well, this trip isn't allowing that) and wear clothes that are washed, I am aware that my heart has an aroma too. Often, those who smell the sweetest on the outside, still have a foul aroma about them. Terrance, though in need of a shower, had a sweet aroma coming from his kind heart. And this was the scent that was strongest as I approached him.
Terrance was half shocked and half ecstatic when he looked up from fiddling with his fingernails to see me standing in front of him. “Told you I would find you. I had a little help, but I wanted to see you before I left.” He smiled and said, “And I’m glad you did.” We talked a while and despite the stares of other people in the park, we didn’t mind. Last night, I had asked him about the homeless community (we call it “The Family”) in San Clemente. He told me that people came and went… some for a day and others stayed for years. At the moment, there were around 25 young ones and 20 adults. And one of the 20 had come over to Terrance and I after 20 minutes or so. I honestly can’t remember his name, so we’ll call him “Dave” ‘cause he looks like a Dave.
The way Dave came up to me and what he said will never be forgotten. He walked right up to me and was “popping my bubble” so to speak… but I was okay with this today, despite usually not being kosher to this closeness of a complete stranger (and guy, none the less). Dave looked intently in my eyes, looked away, and then peered back in them. “Wow, you definitely have it. Man oh man, you are totally one of His aren’t you?” I asked for clarity to his question. He said he could see Jesus in my eyes and he wondered if I was real or an angel. “I’m just like you… a human being. I do love Jesus and want to boldly show others His love.” We talked a little about Christians and the sad reality that some of them push others away instead of pulling them closer to Him. They both had more than 2 cents to put in about this. "Let's learn from those who hurt us... and pray for them." I said, not wanting this to become a bash of sorts. They liked this way of thinking and the tone of their voices changed when they realized how easy it is to become judgmental of the judgmental.
Dave was wearing a cancer race shirt and I asked him if that was simply a shirt he wore or if he had cancer. He told me that he used to have prostate cancer for years, but after surgeries and treatment, he was now cancer free. He went into some graphic detail about it that I won’t share, but let’s just say this wasn’t a made-up story. I had the perfect rock for Dave. Several months ago, I had made a “Survivor” rock with a pink ribbon for a lady who was also a cancer survivor. I never saw her again to make the hand off, so I knew there was someone else who would receive this rock. Dave was this person and I pulled it out of my backpack. He had some moisture in his eyes when he read it.
Dave was not only a survivor of prostate cancer, but also a survivor on the streets of San Clemente. Living in the streets is not always survived 'cause the weather and harshness of sleeping outside is hard on one's body, but the whole lifestyle is hard on one's heart and spirit. Robberies, rapes, and even murders are a prevalent part of the street life. And though not always with ease, Dave was surviving... and so was my buddy Terrance. I gave both of them hugs (Terrance wasn't as taken aback this time) and told them they are valuable to me, but most importantly to God. He loved them just as much as He did I or anyone else, regardless of their pungent or sweet aroma.
The sun was staring to go down, and I had planned on already being in San Diego at this time, but the extra hours on this mission field were worth the late arrival in my next stop. It was dark when I made to the downtown area of this bustling city... and the people were out in large numbers. Though I wanted to park and find some people to converse with, I felt the need to simply drive down and through the busy streets. I would walk these streets tomorrow and rest was needed for what the day would hold. My GPS couldn't locate a nearby Walmart, so I punched in a McDonalds. One came up that was 5 miles away, so we headed in that direction. As the arches came into closer view, I looked to my right and saw a Walmart. Hmmm... why hadn't this come up on my GPS? Sometimes, we have to take the route to a place that is different from the one we would have rather taken. And when our response to this "2cd best" path is one of acceptance and trust that God will take care of us, He sometimes (though not always) will lead us to the place we first wanted to go.
I pulled in, parked, wrote for a over an hour and climbed in the back seat of Tumbler. San Diego would not be for several people as I had thought, but to only talk to one person in particular. I would meet another man "with 2 R's" tomorrow... and he would encourage me just as much as I hope to encourage him.
We all have different aromas that we permeate off to those around us.
The scent may be of sage, Chenel, Gucci, or the need for cologne.
Our hearts...even lives...also have a fragrance that others smell.
We put on perfume when we are about to see people.
But what aroma does our heart and lives have?
Others can smell this permeation as well.
The scent of Jesus is the sweetest.
People will ask you about it.
What are you wearing?
Open door to share...
Grace and Love.
"Everywhere we go, people breathe in the exquisite fragrance. Because of Christ, we give off a sweet scent rising to God, which is recognized by those on the way of salvation—an aroma redolent with life. But those on the way to destruction treat us more like the stench from a rotting corpse."
~II Corinthians 2:15-16 (The Message Bible)
~Unshakable Peace, Love and Purpose~
cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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