South Coast Rock Tour
~ Day 30 ~
Vee…McKenzie Park…Christopher…Milton…Little Cheyanne.
It was Thursday, my first full day in Panama City, Florida.
I had never been to the Panhandle part of this destination state, but over the
last few days and the days to come, I would grow to love the unexplored streets
and beaches of this beautiful area. Like all cities, there are bright areas and
dark areas… but there are treasures within both.
Last night, Cindy had told me about a lady named Dee, who
had become one of her closest friends since the Wilson’s moved from Illinois to
Florida. Their friendship is true, unique, and was a totally set-up from God.
They met when Cindy was visiting her husband Al, who was working in Panama
City, but they had yet to fully transition to living here. Dee worked at the
post office and has been there for over a dozen years. When the two of them
merged in the post office parking lot, their friendship was locked in from that
moment on. Therefore, when Cindy and Al made the commitment to move, the
already-established friendship with Dee helped in relocating to a new state and
new home. I was wanting to meet Dee and Cindy had made plans for the three of
us to go to lunch together. And that we did. The conversation was without wane
as we feasted on fresh Mediterranean food at Taziki’s. It was beautiful to
witness a friendship between them that was grounded on God and laughter. Both
have a smile and a laugh so lovely.
On the way to Taziki’s restaurant, Cindy intentionally drove
past McKenzie Park. This was where many homeless people congregate. And this is
where my heart was pulling me to as we got home from lunch. I threw my backpack
on and Cindy prayed for me before heading out the door to walk the streets of
Panama City. My excitement grew with each step that took me closer to McKenzie
Park. God had quite the afternoon and evening already planned out.
The park had several benches along the four entrances that
led to the center where more benches made a square around a large water fountain.
I walked through the bushes and grass behind one of the brick entrances. The
people sitting and standing on the benches turned to look at me… and the
welcoming nod of “hello, one of us” was giving by each of them. I was inside…
before I was even in the heart of the park. When the center square was reached,
a man with a Marines hat called out to me, inviting me to sit on a bench next to
him. He went by the name Josey Wales. A veteran who had lived on the streets
for many years, Josey was looking to acquire the new blonde on the block.
Making it known that I wasn’t interested in “being claimed”, Josey would
continue his pursuit until the cops were called later in the afternoon (not due
to me, but due to his unwelcomeness at the mission). Josey wasn’t a bad guy, he
simply had a bad habit with alcohol, which led him to the streets and kept him
on the streets. He was physically in Panama City, but he was mentally still in
combat of many things. It was through Josey Wales that I was introduced to Jay
and Shoshane. Jay had just been released from jail the day before and Shoshane
had latched on to the young man within 24hrs. Most women have one or more men
when living on the streets. It’s easier. It’s safer. It softens the harshness
of the streets. Shoshane had Jay. At first, she was hesitant of me, another
girl who could threaten and potentially take away her man. Jay was very open
with me about his past and present story. When I would ask a question, or
respond to something he shared, I would make more eye contact with Shoshane
than Jay, to deflate her intimidation and inflate her ease that the “new girl”
was not out to steal her “new man”. Shoshane grew comfortable with me in my
time by the large water fountain. A rock was given to Josie Wales, Jay, and
Shoshane. The words and phrases were uniquely fitting for each of them. After
an hour, Shoshane asked if I wanted to walk with her to the mission on 6th
Street. I thanked her and declined as I wanted to scribe some rocks. There was
a gazebo off to the side of the park and I sat on my red mat with my back
against the black metal railing. After drawing the word “Hope”, the Spirit
nudged me to take my new sister up on her offer. Shoshane, Jay, myself, and the
still persistent Josie, made our way through the downtown, cut across alleys
and side streets, and all the way down 6th towards the mission.
Josie made us stop several times as his lethargic legs were not prepared to
keep up with the three of us who had not been drinking since the morning. When
we reached the yellow building and all went inside, the staff told Josey that
he had to leave. He had been given a 2-week suspension from the mission a week
ago for fighting. With his liquid courage running through his liver, Josey did
not take the polite news to leave, with a wise response. Eventually, he was
physically pushed back out the front door and upon trying to get back in, the
cops were called. I would not see Josey Wales again.
The staff had noticed I was a new face and the man behind
the front desk asked me to come over. His name was Christopher. He was a bright
light in the dark day-shelter. His interactions with the regulars and his
introduction to the “new girl” can be described as attentive, friendly, and
caring. He treated me as a person, not as a problem. Simple questions were
asked as he typed in my information into his computer. My picture was taken and
we both had a good laugh that I threw up the “hang
loose” hand gesture when the
camera clicked. Other mission residence came up to the desk while Christopher
checked me in, and his response to their interruptions was calm and direct. He
was the perfect balance of being a friend to them while being someone they had
grown to respect. Gave Christopher a “Be Intentional to plant SEEDS into the
hearts of others” rock… for that is what he was doing on this mission field.
Every time Christopher and I would see each other in the next two days, he
would smile and flash me the “hang loose” or “Love” sign.
My new mission ID in my backpack, I now could check in to
eat dinner in an hour. The mission serves over 100,000 meals to people each
year. The day shelter is open from early morning to mid-afternoon, and the back
building opens it chapel doors at 4pm for people to wait for dinner to be
served at 5pm. The Panama City Rescue Mission offers residential programs for
those struggling with addictions and other struggles as well as a men’s work
program. It is a faith-based organization that truly wants to reach the hearts
of those hurting.
Jay, Shoshane and I went inside the chapel to sit down and
wait for the food our stomachs were growling for. I sat in the back with a wall
behind me. Noticed a man around the corner who was reading the Bible. His name
was Steve and we struck up a cool conversation right away. I could say a lot
about this quiet man who had been set free from the grips of alcohol, but had
yet to find a place he could financially afford. He was still living on the
streets, but his life was now completely changed. Steve had started reading the
Bible, then stopped drinking, and was immersed God’s Living Word. “I crave it.
I can’t stop reading. It changed my life. I’m a new man all because of the love
and grace of Jesus.” When he told me his favorite verse was Romans 12:2, those
power-full words were written on a rock that was placed in Steve’s hands. We
probably would have talked for that whole hour of waiting for food, if another
man had not slipped into the seat on my other side. “Are you drawing on rocks?”
he asked. I nodded and showed him the one being drawn. “I don’t normally talk
to people, because most people don’t talk to me, but you seemed like someone
who was different.” His name was Milton. We bonded from the beginning. We
talked for 30min in the chapel and then ate together at a booth in the chow
room. It was there that Milton opened the doors of his closed heart. Milton had
isolated himself to those around him due to being hurt by others he had let
into his heart in past chapters of his life story. He chose isolation, yet
craved connection. Our now empty, colorful trays had been pushed aside on the
plastic linoleum table. Milton’s eyes filled with tears as he shared how deep
and dark his depression was. “I feel weak admitting this, but I really don’t
have much to keep living for. There are many times that I’ve come close to
ending it all. And no one would even notice if I took my life.” He lowered his
head and pent-up tears dropped on the table. He pulled out the rock I had given
him in the chapel… “Purpose in the Pain.” He clutched it with his calloused
hand and I reached across the table to place my hand on top of his. We were in
a large, crowded room, but at that moment, it was just me and Milton. He had
prayed out loud before we ate, thanking God for the food and for sending a
friend. As Milton cried, I silently prayed for my new friend. Though I wanted
to pray out loud, sensed that Milton needed to simply be allowed to cry… and
not feel alone.
At 6pm, Milton and I went outside for a cigarette and met up
with Jay and Shoshane. They had met a young mother and her 8-year-old daughter,
Cheyanne. This is not a common name, yet it was the second Cheyanne on my path
in the last 3 days. Both of them were special and made an impact. Young Cheyanne
touched my heart with her sweet innocence. She came right up to me and tugged
at my poncho. “See that cat over there? Want to try to pet it?” Her mother was
watching her closely, and I gave her a smile and nod that silently said, “Your
daughter is safe with me.” Little Cheyanne loved kittens, cats, and anything to
do with the feline family. My love for all-things-animal includes cats, so we
went chasing after the stray cat, who had already disappeared behind the
chain-linked fence. We crouched down and our fingers clung to the wire. “I used
to have a cat when we lived in a home. But now we live in our car, so my mom
said I can’t have a cat.” Trying to keep my heart-strings from reverberating
out of my chest, I swallowed and said, “That must be cozy to sleep in the car
with your mom. When you get older, and have your own house, you can have as
many cats as you want. What would you name the first cat?” Little Cheyanne
scrunched up her nose and then her big, brown eyes grew larger. “Ricket! And I
would name my 2cd cat Luna!” --- “Those are good names, little buddy. Did you
know that Luna means the moon?” --- “No, but I do know that I love cats.” I
pulled out a rock from my backpack and began to draw the face of cat on it with
“Ricket” wrote underneath the whiskers. Cheyanne was fascinated and she laughed
as I drew. “You don’t draw cats very well.” I laughed and agreed with her.
Handing her the rock and Sharpie marker, Cheyanne turned the rock over and then
drew the face, body and curly tail of a cat with “Luna” underneath the paws.
Her rendition was way better than mine. I’ll stick to drawing words. Cheyanne
put the rock in her pocket and then pulled out a greeting card from her pink
backpack. It had a picture of 2 kittens on the front. She handed it to me and
said, “Can we be friends forever?” --- “I hope we see each other again, but if
we don’t, you can think of me when you look at the cat rock and I will think of
you when I look at this kitten card.” She hugged me and told me she loved me.
The plucking of my heart strings was not able to be stifled. Moisture welled up
in my eyes as I received a hug from this 8-year-old who loved cats and lived in
a car.
Little Cheyanne’s sweet face was one of many faces I saw
late that night as I laid down in a queen-sized bed, knowing most of them were
sleeping in much smaller, less comfortable places tonight.
We take things for granted.
Not realizing how complacent
We have grown in the comfortableness.
Gratitude. Gratitude. Gratitude.
Unshakable Peace and Purpose
Cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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