~ 35th Day ~
Jerusalem...State Street...Pershing...Harbor Meeting and Memories.
Daniel had stayed the night at Karen's. We stayed up late into the night and if not for our drooping eyes, we could have pushed through into the morning. I crawled into bed with already sleeping Karen and Daniel slept on one of the living room chairs. It was important to get a few hours of sleep in, for both him and I were going to church the next morning. Karen slept in and we headed to Calvary Chapel which is on the same street I used to walk for the men passing by. It's so ironic that "The Wall" is located in between this large church and the Santa Barbara Rescue Mission... darkness and light cannot live together, but they certainly can live in close proximity to each other. When pulling into the entrance to Calvary, memories flooded my mind of how I would be high and watch the cars and people coming through this entrance as I either sat up in my favorite tree or was laying on the grass. I would watch the people gathering for church while I would gather my paraphernalia and go to a less visible place to numb my feelings of knowing my lifestyle wasn't what I knew it should be. I went to a few services even while living under the bridge and I remember walking in the sanctuary all scuzzy with my heavy backpack. Some people would stare (and most likely smell me) but I do remember a few people who acknowledged me, gave me hugs, and asked how my day was going. Most likely, they knew I was one of the girls who lived and worked the streets, so their extension of love and compassion was appreciated all the more. More people like these few are needed in the church... those who aren't afraid to reach out and touch the so-called "untouchables."
Daniel hadn't been to church in a while, so I was not only excited myself to be in the fellowship of other Christians, but expectant for him as well. But this wasn't the typical Sunday morning message. The continuation of worshiping our God, who is constantly worthy of our praise, was beautiful. The chosen songs were so pertinent for the season I'm in and I wasn't shy about the volume of my voice or hands extended down, on my heart, or up in the air. People around me are forgotten when praise music is played... it's just me and the King (the audience of One). I felt drunk in the Spirit when the music stopped, but my heart continued to sing and dance.
The pastor came up and his announcements weren't really heard due to my state of heart. I wished there had been more songs played, but still, I was excited to hear the message. We were told that a guest speaker would be sharing with us this morning... and he was from Jerusalem. Honestly, I was slightly bummed, for probably meant we would be fed some meaty message. But I was to be pleasantly surprised at the "steak" that would be shared. The man's name was Iddo (don't know if that's how it's spelled, but it was pronounced like E-doh). This mighty man of God was not only from Jerusalem (The Holy Land), but he knew all about the places where Jesus walked and talked. It was flat out fantastically fascinating! Though it was geographical, with pictures of places and all, it was Biblical and there were dozens of sermons within this 45 mins. When he finished talking and the worship band came back up, we sang another song and then I heard God whispering to "get up and go to the bathroom." Meerrhhh? I hadn't heard or felt this leading before and was quite torn between staying for the last song of the service or doing as I was led. Plus, I didn't need to use the ladies' room, so why was I being told to go. Good thing I listened to God's leading, for when I walked out of the sanctuary and rounded the corner where the bathrooms were located, there was Iddo standing by himself right in front of the ladies bathroom! I smiled while tilting my eyes upward, reached into my purse where I had placed 1 rock before leaving Tumbler, and walked toward this holy man who had come straight from the Holy Land.
He didn't looked surprised at my walking right up to him and interrupting whatever he was doing standing there by himself, nor did he look like he was expecting someone to round the corner. His big, warm smile as I neared him, did tell me that he welcomed whatever it was that I was about to say. It wasn't much. "God told me to go to the bathroom and here you are, so here is something to take back to Jerusalem with you. Keep it if you want or give it to someone else who is needs to reminded that there is a reason for everything. Thank you for coming here and sharing about Jesus." With that, I handed Iddo a "There Is Purpose In Every Pain" rock. We snapped a picture and then I walked away from the bathroom area to find Daniel, as the last song had been sung and people were filing out of the sanctuary. Though it would have been nice to spend more time with my friend, Daniel, I knew our paths would cross again. Plus, there were some places I needed to go with my heavy backpack, the first being Pershing park.
It was early afternoon, and my family was midday "two sheets to the wind." Most of them were passed out or near to being. I didn't know whether to cover some of them up to protect them from the sun or to pull down the covers of those who were sweating profusely under them. I remembered times when I'd come back from the Wall, be offered vodka chased with Juice (not the fruit kind) and my tired body and mind would beg for sleep. I'd start off freezing from my body's withdraw, crawl into the fetal position in a sleeping bag and wake up a whole day or more later in a pool of sweat... only to jump up, slam some more vodka and soon after, tell my Pershing family I'd be right back (knowing I'd be at the Wall for another 3-7 days). The cycle was maddening, but the people here were always kind and welcoming of me... They weren't ones to judge for they had their own cycles of insanity. Don't we all, yet we still judge other people for their own struggle while temporarily forgetting our own. Heard this saying this morning and it's been one for me to ponder: Criticism is usually a cowardly form of self praise. This makes me re-think the first sentence of this paragraph, for in what ways have I been "two sheets to the wind" today whether it be physically or mentally. Often, our destructive cycles live within our minds. I am an admitted work in progress even though I have smashed the vodka bottle and crack pipe in my life.
As I was about to walk out of the park I'd just walked into, I saw a familiar face in the distance. This was surely my dear sister, Paula. Though you can't see them well in the picture, her eyes are crystal blue. She was one of the many who loved me unconditionally and was always good for a hug. I called out to her and she put her hand up to block the intense sun. We both picked up our pace and met each other with a long overdue hug. "Wow, you came back... what are you doing here?" I told her I was visiting and not staying, and that it was important for me to come back not just for myself but more so for her and the others who were still here. She smiled and hung her head, but I pulled her close into another hug. Paula had had a rough week... rather life. Pulling out a peace sign rock from my backpack, I placed it in her hands and reminded her of God's peace that is available in every season of life. She said, "Jesus is still my all, Katie. He has not given up on me yet and I have to cling to Him out here." Paula was never quiet in talking about Jesus, and she will always be my sister in more ways than one. I haven't seen her since that day, but am hoping to give her one more hug before I leave SB once more.
A Jamaican guy and his friend were playing the drums at Pershing and I remembered him from the drum circle gathering Sat nights near Chase Palm Park, another park I used to get high at. I listened to a few of their jams and then felt it was time to relocate fields to State Street. I left Tumbler parked near Pershing and walked to the busy main strip. This walk would be made several times during my stay here, but this was my first time walking it instead of driving down it.
Some salmon, granola bars, trail mix, and vitamin water were bought at the 99 cent store and stuffed in my already bulging backpack. When I stepped out of the store to step foot back on the State, there was a girl my age sitting on the sidewalk. I passed her by, but turned back around after 2 more steps. Crouching down, I asked what her name was. "I'm Exodus. My name means 'exit of the people'." Her hair was short and her clothes unwashed, but her eyes had such a bright luster to them. I smiled and told her to never forget the origin of her name, for there was is a true and powerful story that brought about the name 'Exodus'." I pulled out the trail mix and vitamin water for her. She took it with a big smile and said, "You know about this story of the leaving a land of slavery and then returning to it. Thank you for turning back around to help me." Walking away, Exodus' face stayed with me. I walked for an hour up and then back down State St., not stopping to set up my rocks, but simply to pray for the people walking past me. Now on the other side of the street, when I turned my head to the place where she had been sitting before, Exodus was looking right at me with those same bright eyes and smiling. Though I'll never be sure, I believe Exodus was an angel. I haven't seen her in the week since that day.
A block down, I saw my old friend, Paul, walking ahead of me. Don't know how I'd not noticed him before. He had aged, though his kind eyes behind his glasses were still the same. He was holding a heart design constructed of twisted balloons. I jogged up next to him and commented on the bright creation. He didn't recognize me, but was friendly despite. Paul used to set up these elaborate displays with random trinkets that had a message laced throughout it. All his set-ups had a Biblical message and the end of the journey he took people through this maze of random objects was always an invitation to accept Jesus into your heart. I have an old picture of one of Paul's set-ups on and around a bench. A rock with words about every day being a gift was handed to Paul. His already existing smile grew wider and he said, "Oh this is beautiful. God has given you and I another day to share His love with others. Do you know how much Jesus loves you, Miss?" I did, but the Bible verses that he quoted and spoke into my spirit were welcome reminders that God's love is for everyone and our lives our lives are letters that speak of His redemption in our lives. Paul and so many others, including myself, are proof that God uses the most unlikely and unqualified to minister on the streets.
The Rock ministry was set up on a bench near the end of State St, a block away from the ocean. The cool breeze from the water was a relief from the hot sun. A few rocks were scribed and a few people stopped to look at them, but none were handed out. Many homeless people and I exchanged nods and some I would have conversations with in upcoming days. This "rock girl" was still new on the block, but they recognized I was not a threat as many peace signs and smiles were flashed at them. It's interesting being undercover homeless... the responses of those living and visiting SB were all being observed. Some things doing change. People on the streets most often welcome you, while those with homes think you're just another person with dirty feet. And mine were certainly that.
I put away my Sharpie markers and rocks when the temperature began to drop, encouraging me to grab change my shorts for parachute pants and my tank top for a long sleeved shirt. Tumbler was my changing room and I was not ready to go to my 3rd NA meeting in SB. This was the Harbor meeting and again, only a few familiar faces were seen, but it was a speaker meeting and God wanted me there for more than re-connecting with old friends. During the mid-way part of the meeting and right before the speaker was to give his story of experience and hope, we all went out for a cigarette. Most, but not all, people in recovery still have this habit to quit, including myself. The people there were all in smaller groups, puffing and chatting about this and that. I was off to myself and simply enjoying being there without being drunk and high. An older man walked over to me and started asking me questions cause he hadn't seen me before. I told him about living here years and ago and that I was just passing through with my Rock Ministry. More questions about this were asked and when I told him about God switching my rocks, from rock cocaine to the Rock that He is, the man's face turned sour. "There ain't no room for talking about God in these rooms. We have all tried this church and that, and none of us want to hear about God. You can take that crap and leave it at the door before you go back in that meeting." I smiled and told him that I would never stop telling others about the Savior, wasn't trying to push it on anyone, though I wouldn't be shy about the Rock and would pray for him. He shook his head and we both walked up the stairs to hear the speaker who was about to share his story... which was all about God being the reason he was clean and sober today. The speaker was certainly not shy about talking about the highEST power who had pulled him out of the miry pit and onto the Solid Rock that God was. LOL :)
Sometimes we plant the seeds.
Other times, we water and fertilize.
But it's God's job to make it take root.
The growth is not always seen right away.
Our role is to continue planting and watering.
~Unshakable Peace, Planting and Purpose~
cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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