South Coast Rock Tour
~ Day 14 ~
Warriors…Family Farewells…Wow Bday Dinner…Mark Cross.
Today was beautiful and hard. So as not to short out my laptop
with tears, I am not going to go into great detail of the many people I merged
paths with and the emotional goodbyes with each of them. This was my last day
in downtown Austin. I thought God would have me stay for the remainder of the
week, but He made it very clear that this Tuesday was the day to move on.
Detaching from my new friends would be difficult… for all of us.
I wrote at Walmart, bought a dozen roses, and drove downtown
around noon. Walked to the Arch and sat across the street to pray for the
hundreds of people congregated around the Arch’s block. Baltimore came over to
see me. He sat down next to me and I gave him a rose. We talked about his time
on the streets and his desire to get off the streets. At the end of our
conversation, told him I was moving on. The words he spoke into me were genuine
and full of love. I thanked him for being a friend, a protector, and a man of
loyalty. We both had moisture in our eyes as we pulled away from a long embrace
right there on the dirty sidewalk.
This was the first of many goodbyes today and I was already
pleading with God to allow me to stay a few more days. Went to a quiet block on
6th St. to be alone with the Spirit, my Sharpies and rocks. Sat
there for 2 hours as the whispers of the Spirit comforted my heart that was
struggling with leaving this town I had grown to love in the 10 days here. He
continued to confirm that I was to move on. A man in a crisp suit bought a “Be
Brave” rock for his son who was also struggling with a redirection in his path.
My friend, Max, the talkative Cowboy who lived on the streets, came by and sat
with me for a longer time than welcomed. Max is a cool guy, kind, and his
intentions are pure. But this guy can talk your ear off. I listened to him, for
that is really what Max needs… to be heard. He pulled out the “Press Through”
rocks he pulled from my bag of pebbles 3 days earlier when we first met. The
rock was already weathered and Max told me how much it meant to him. We talked
about many things. Max is good man… A cowboy who lost his way in the mountains
of life and is trying to press through.
I packed up and walked to the marble planter box where Slim
normally flies his sign and street dwellers stop to rest, but the corner was
empty. Pulled out a rock and began to draw on it. A new face came by and sat
down. His name was Sloan. He had just been released prison. The backstory of
this rapper who spits lyrics about his tough life in and out of prison and time
on the streets was fascinating. He pulled a “Warrior” rocks from my small bag
of pebbles. Said it was the perfect word and he would write a song about it. I
was able to share the Good News of Jesus with Sloan. He listened with his big,
brown eyes that had blue teardrops tattooed under them. We talked about having
a choice of who would be our master in this life: God or Money. This really
resonated with Sloan. Felt the leading to give Sloan another rock… one that
said “Live with Intention”. I pray that Sloan’s release from prison would lead
to a newfound freedom not only outside the prison cell, but freedom in Jesus
Christ who died and rose again to be the sacrifice of our sins. Sloan gave me a
hug. He had a soft heart underneath the exterior hardness he put forth. He
truly was a warrior… as we all are in one way or another.
Several more rocks were scribed at the corner spot. Met
Angie, a girl my age who was another warrior. She lives on the streets and
works the streets. Her story is laced with traumatic experiences, depression,
and suffocating sadness. I was honored to listen to her unpack so many things
from her heavy heart. The ratio of women to men on the streets vastly lopsided.
Women tend to stick with a group of men and can be territorial with their
“family”, not wanting another woman to be adopted in to ensue competition or
sisterly rivalry. Angie didn’t have such a group of guys, as she floated around
to whomever she would be with from night to night. I was grateful she could
open up to me and be loved by someone who wanted nothing in return. Gave Angie a
rose and a “Hope” rock. She is wounded… but a warrior none the less.
I went on a long walkabout and got lost once again. Didn’t
care today, as I was simply in-joying my last day in downtown Austin. Back to
familiar streets, I crossed paths with Mark, Casper, Troy, The Fiddler, and
Slim. I’m tearing up just remembering the last conversations with these people
who had become family. Goodbyes are hard. With each of these beautiful people,
we spoke love and gratitude for our time together and the closeness that had
grown in such a short amount of time. Our embraces were extra strong and long.
There was only one last person to find before my time
downtown would be complete… Mark Anthony. I walked around 6th and 7th
St. for a good while before God intersected our paths. Mark had been looking
for me all day as well. When we saw each other, it was like a movie scene where
two long lost friends run to each other in slow motion. Except it wasn’t slow
motion, and our running to each other was not graceful as we both had big,
overstuffed backpacks on that encumbered our strides. I jumped in his arms and
my 6’3” friend held my feet off the ground as he lifted my heavy heart with
words of adoration. Today was Mark’s Birthday and we would celebrate him and
our friendship for the next 3 hours.
From 9pm till Midnight, Mark and I walked together, sat on
sidewalks together, sang together, made art together, and we only came up for
air as our conversation was unbroken by any of the hustle and bustle around us.
We had a celebratory birthday dinner at the WOW Grilled Cheese food truck. A
sweet woman named Guiselly owns this mobile restaurant that specializes in
grilled cheese creations and crepes with various toppings. But Guiselly serves
more than food from her truck… she knows most of the people on the streets by
name and she treats them no differently than a paying customer. She hands out
free water and coffee to those without a home or money. But most of all,
Guiselly hands out love and a “I see you” to those often deemed unlovable and
who go unseen. A “Faith” rock was given to this woman of love. A man named
Duane helps her with the food truck and he also has a heart for the homeless.
He shelters up to 5 people at his house for varying lengths of times. Some take
the next step to staying off the streets, though most go back to what has
become a familiar lifestyle. Duane says it can be discouraging, but while it’s
hard to see people go back to the streets, he will continue to open his house
in hopes that these people know that they are worthy of being loved and cared
about. Duane smiled at the “Love Rocks” rock I handed him after encouraging him
to continue planting seeds of love whether he sees the fruition of those seeds
grow now or later in these people’s lives. Both Guiselly and Duane were super
cool… their stories are impacting the stories of so many other people around
their food truck.
Mark Anthony got a free birthday crepe smothered in ice
cream, chocolate and strawberries. I had a grilled cheese with mac and cheese
and bacon. It was at that small metal table that I told Mark that I was leaving
Austin… and I told him the whole truth about my journey through the southern
states. His handsome eyes teared up, “I knew there was something different
about you, my love. You are one of us, yet you don’t belong.” It has always
been easy talking with Mark, but there were long pauses in between the truth
spoken as it was apparent that Mark was processing the words. The two of us sat
at that table for a long time, talking about the present and of the future.
Mark tried to convince me to stay in Austin, or to take him with me if I truly
was leaving. We were already feeling the pain of separation even as we still
were together.
We walked to the corner where David Quick was singing and
playing his guitar. Angie was there too. Mark and I stayed for a couple of
songs but there was no dancing, as Mark and I knew these were the last songs of
our beautifully eclectic musical together. I leaned on Mark’s shoulder during
an Eagles song, and after it was played, asked if he would walk me to my truck.
“You have a truck?!?!?” --- “Yes, sweetie. His name is Tumbler.” --- “Like a
rock tumbler?” Most people don’t pick up on this, but Mark is super intelligent
and a lover of words. “Precisely. It’s time for me to ramble on, my friend.”
The parking lot was only a few blocks away, but it felt like
a mile and we purposefully walked slow. When we climbed the steps to the third
level, Tumbler was there waiting so handsomely. “That’s your truck?!?!” Mark
took my hand and started dancing and twirling me around. “Please take me with
you, my love. We can go to Florida and I will introduce you to my family.” I so
want Mark to reunite with his family whom he left to go “off the grid” so many
years ago. But I couldn’t take him with me. He had to make that journey on his
own when he was truly ready to leave the freedom of living on the streets…
which had become more of a prison than a freedom for this man of many talents.
We stood by Tumbler for an unknown length of time. It was
unrushed and intentional. I won’t share all that was said… it was personal.
Mark shared his hopes. This strong man also shared some of his fears. I shared
the full Gospel of Jesus with Mark. He received the Good News. He admitted to
being tired of trying to drive his own life and acknowledging his need of the
Savior for his sins. Mark and I embraced and I prayed for him as Mark’s arms
tightened around me. I truly believe that opened his heart to Jesus that night.
It was nothing I did, rather the Holy Spirit was massaging his heart to let the
King sit on the throne of his journey from that day on. All glory and praise to
Him alone.
There were tears and more hugs before I unlocked Tumbler’s
door. This was the hardest goodbye. Deep love and thankfulness was expressed,
though we were grieving through the gratitude. I was an emotional mess as I put
the gear shift into drive and made my way down the winding levels. When I
pulled out of the parking high rise, Mark was walking across the street and I
honked and waved. He did a curtsy bow and blew a kiss. I kept driving down the
street that would lead me to the freeway, and Mark walked down the street, a
free man. Fitting, for Mark Anthony’s street name is Mark Cross.
Surrender. Repent. Believe. Receive.
Unshakable Peace and Purpose
Cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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