cling to the Rock: Day 28 ~ South Coast Rock Tour

South Coast Rock Tour

~ Day 28 ~

Pensacola…Cheyanne…Destin…Chelsea…Miramar Beach…Denise.

The Walmart in Pensacola was not so different than those in other cities. I crawled into the front seat and only one person saw the awkward hurdle over the seats. I’m not one to care about what others may be thinking, though it is interesting to watch the faces of women putting on a fresh layer of mascara and lip stick or husbands waiting for their wives to finish their shopping-for-more-than-what-is-on-the-list. Those who are parked next to me or in front of me often notice me making the transition to back seat to driver’s seat or get out to open the back tunnel cover and crawl over the tailgate to grab rocks and granola bars for the day. Oh, to know what they are thinking when they see me come back to the driver’s seat with dozens of rocks cradled in my arms. I usually just smile at their furrowed brows.

After the morning routine, banana and V8 breakfast, Tumbler and I pulled out to explore Pensacola. We wouldn’t be here long. Wanted to go to the beachside and find people who were getting their morning ocean fix, but felt led to pull into a parking lot several blocks from the sandy shore. There were small shops along the strip. Not knowing why I was here, but knowing it was for a reason unbeknownst to me, I swung my backpack on. With the restock of rocks, it was heavier than the normal weight. Instead of feeling like a hay bail was on my back, it felt like a wet hay bail. The farmers will get this distinction. Walking along the strip shops, there was a tanning salon that caught my eye… not because I wanted to tan, but because it seemed I was to go inside for another reason. This puzzled me. “God, I’m in Florida. I don’t need to tan in a microwave tunnel. The natural sun is doing a fine bronzing job.” --- “Go inside.” --- “There are better things to spend money on” --- “Go inside.” I went inside, not knowing how to approach the front desk attendant, being that I didn’t want to tan here. “Hey, I’m not from around here. I’m traveling around and collecting stories from people.” A young girl in her early 20’s was at the desk and another young girl appeared from around the corner of the long hallways lined with numbered doors. The first one introduced herself, “My name is Bridget. Glad you came in today. We can get you all signed up for a membership here.” I looked at the second young girl who bowed her head when we locked eyes. “I may or may not tan, but am more interested in hearing a little about your story. Have you lived here long, Bridget?” She told me that her parents weren’t from around here, but she came here to go to college and then ended up staying after graduating. The second girl stayed silent. Felt led to share with them a deeper part of my story so that it might invite them to share a deeper part of their own story. I told them how I used to be addicted to rock cocaine and that it took me through rehabs, jails, psych wards, and the streets. Boy did this open up Bridget to share some of her own struggle with cocaine… and finally the second girl spoke. “My name is Cheyanne. I just got clean from crystal meth. This is the first real job I’ve had in years. I actually still live in a tent with my boyfriend who also is clean now, and we are trying to save up to get an apartment.” Wow. Wow. Wow. It was very clear why God had wanted me to “go inside” this tanning salon… it was to talk with Bridget, but even more so, to talk with Cheyanne. Both had many chapters of their young story that were full of drug addiction (way beyond the “weekend warrior” type of using”) and it was interesting to hear the differences within the similarities these two girls shared. Bridget came from an upper-class family and she admitted that her privileged upbringing enabled her downward spiral into cocaine. “I had an unlimited bank account and my parents didn’t monitor how much money I was spending. After 5 years of using every day, I wasn’t able to keep it hidden anymore. My softball teammates began to worry and my sorority girls were calling me out on how much I was using. It wasn’t until I went home on a break and finally told my mom. Katie, the look in her eyes when I told her broke my heart. I was tired of hiding and my mom helped me get clean. I still struggle with wanting to use every day.” Bridget was giving a rock that said “We all have a story. When you put a voice to your stories, the ripples of hope will reach out to those around you.”

Now Cheyanne, sweet Cheyanne. She didn't go into as much detail of her story as Bridget had, but what she shared hit me in my chest with a fist full of empathy with each chapter she put a voice to. Cheyanne didn’t come from a wealthy family. They were neglectful when she was young, and continue to be today. She does not have here parents to lean on or rescue her. She is pulling herself out of the darkness she lived in one step at a time. Her boyfriend is supportive and trying to do the same. They had chosen to allow the meth to take over their lives. Drug addiction is a choice. It’s a choice to use and it’s a choice to not use. Cheyanne was choosing not to use anymore, and although she still has visible wounds from so many years of choosing to use, I believe that Cheyanne is going to be one of the rare people who make it out of the darkness… and never go back. I went back in my truck and grabbed a gift card that my friend (Kari Shaw) have given me before leaving. Back in the salon, I pulled Cheyanne to the side. Felt she needed to be held in a hug and whispered words of encouragement. She began to cry. When a “Faith” rock and the gift card were placed in her hands, she didn’t want to accept it. Told her that many others had helped me when I was coming out of my own wilderness and promised her that she would do the same for someone else further along her journey. Cheyanne had big, beautiful dark eyes… with cracks of light beginning to break through. Her brokenness was the beginning of her sweet surrender. More light would shine through the cracks as Cheyanne was now writing light-filled chapters of her life-story. After all, we ALL have a story.

Pensacola was beautiful. As was the next town we drove to: Destin, Florida. This was another tourist town and after checking out the bustling street lined with hotels, souvenir shops, and marina restaurants, I drove back to a stretch of the road where one could pull off and walk to parts of the beach where no one was around. These are the beaches I love to go when by myself. When I’m with family or friends, any beach will suffice, though when it’s just me and the Holy Spirit, the solitary beaches add to the spending time with my Lover. We spent two hours on this beach as the sound of the waves washing up on the white sand shore was the soundtrack to processing the last few days and preparing for the days to come.

Before leaving Destin, a Hobby Lobby store was found. Needed to restock my small plastic bags that protect pre-scribed rocks from rubbing up against each other, often scratching the letters of words written on the rocks. Grabbed the bags and went to check out. Only two lanes were open and there was a long line for both. Several ladies were overheard complaining of the wait. This is one of my pet-peeves. Not the waiting in line, rather witnessing others complain about the waiting in line. I understand people have things to do and places to be, but we have become such a society that cultivates complaining when we have to wait. Often, there are little treasures waiting for us in the waiting line. I’ll talk more about this in another post. I stood in line with my single item to be purchased, while the murmuring grew louder. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and a young girl with the name tag “Chelsea” said, “I’m going to open up over on #4. Want to come with me?” I smiled and followed her to the open lane. Don’t know if the other ladies simply didn’t notice the #4 light turn on, or they were too busy being bothered by the long line they complainingly remained in, but I was the only customer with Chelsea for the next 5min. And this opened up time for us to connect beyond the craft item in my hand. After ringing me up, I asked Chelsea if she knew of any homeless outreach programs in the Destin area. She looked at me with a smile that held more than an answer… this touched a personal place in Chelsea’s heart. Her mom had been homeless for years. She got off the streets and has started her own ministry for those who are homeless. It is called Rugged Grace. Isn’t that a stellar name? Chelsea told me some of her mom’s story and then shared how it had become part of her own story. She, as well as her mom, have a heart for the homeless. I went back in my truck and came back with a specialized rock for Chelsea. I had gone in for plastic bags, and walked out with a new friend. Grateful to have met Chelsea while waiting in line.

Tumbler’s tires hadn’t been turning on the road long, when Miramar Beach was reached. This was a wealthy area, though small in size. The sun was descending on the horizon over the ocean, so we pulled over to watch the God’s brushstrokes grow in color against the clouds. Backpack was put on and my sandals flipped up the white sand with each step. A gnarly log was spotted in the distance… this would be my chair for the sunset show. I passed a few closed up shanties along the way. Smiled at a man sitting on the turquoise porch and he smiled back, then threw off his towel and ran into the ocean. Like full out, hurdling over the waves and then diving into the cold water. I laughed as he came up, shook his hair, and his mouth was wide open from the shock of the cold water temperature. I flashed him a peace sign in the air while laughing and he too, laughed.

Kept walking and saw another lady sitting on the porch of a life-guard shack. God nudged me and said, “Go talk to her later.” I tucked his nudge in my pocket and promised to do this in a little while. My pack was dropped by the log and I pulled out the red mat that my buddy Sunshine Sara had given me before leaving. This mat has been sat on in so many places while on this journey. The gift was a treasure because of what the mat means to Sara Beth, but even more of a treasure in that it was the perfect gift for someone who sits on sidewalks, benches, and logs all throughout the day. The sun was glistening off the water and the colors of the sky were already stunning. Drew on a rock while glancing up at the scenery. After a little while, I wanted to follow through on God’s prompting to talk with the lady. Looked over and saw that she was gone. “Dagnabit, I missed her, God. I’m sorry for not being more prompt.” I went back to scribing my rock. When I looked up a few minutes later, I saw a woman walking up from the ocean directly towards me… it was the same woman. When she was a few steps away she said, “Hey, I saw you walked by me earlier, and God told me to come over and talk with you.” --- “Girl, God told me the same thing with you, but I thought you had left. Want to watch the rest of the sunset with me?” Her name was Denise. She sat down on the log and we talked through the colorful sunset and 30min after as the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. Denise was one of those people who you meet and immediately feel a kinship with. She loves people, loves Jesus, and loves the ocean. Denise had lived most of her life in Tennessee. At the age of 14, she felt a calling to live at the ocean, but she wouldn’t answer that calling for 40 years later. A year ago, she sold her large Tennessee house, left her successful job, and started driving to Florida. When she got to Miramar Beach and got out of her car to walk along the beach, she placed an X in the sand. This was where she felt God calling her to live. She bought a small house that faces the ocean and here she has lived this past year… with no plans of leaving. Denise talked about a desire to marry a man who loves God, but she also shared how the Holy Spirit has loved her so tenderly and fervently for the last few years, that she is content and doesn’t lack for love. Having just made a “Love” rock, I placed it in Denise’s hands. It was a perfect sunset, a perfect place to share our stories together, and a perfect rock for my new friend. God’s love truly does rock… it’s like a constant sunset in one’s heart.