South Coast Rock Tour
~ Day 31 ~
Mia...Monty…Cajun…Brandon…Moving On.
Woke up refreshed and recharged from yesterday. Last night
had not ended with Little Cheyanne. The car that the young girl and her mother
live in, had taxied Jay, Shoshane, Milton and myself back to McKenzie park. We
were packed in like sardines and I snapped a picture of all of us… mainly so I
could capture my little cat-loving buddy’s face that smiled wider than any of
us. At 6pm every Tuesday and Thursday, a different church comes to a nearby
parking lot and sets up tables with a spread of homemade food. One or more
people will share a short message of hope and encouragement derived from God’s
Word and then the feast begins… they feed the homeless in several ways.
After talking with Cindy that morning, I headed back to
McKenzie Park. It was there and then that I met Mia. She has been coming to the
park every day from 11am to noon for the past 3 weeks. She had a large
container stacked with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grocery bags full of
chips and cookies, and a large cooler of hot chocolate. People were coming up
to her, receiving the food with gratitude, then would head back to their
designated benches. I crouched down 20ft away from her portable café to observe
the small, Korean lady. She noticed me and came over with the rectangular
container. “Jesus loves you. Would you like a sandwich?” I smiled and grabbed
one. “Take two. I have plenty.” --- “I’m good with one. Thank you, ma’am.” ---
“My name is Mia. Jesus loves you.” She walked over to pour a cup of hot
chocolate and came back to hand it to me. Most of those in the park had already
gotten fed and did not stick around Mia’s bench. I had her to myself for the
next 20min. Asking her specific questions, Mia was open with her story of being
swept in to the washing love and grace of Jesus. She had come from South Korea
25 years ago and had experienced the deception and betrayal of her now
ex-husband. She told me how she had become a Christian while married and she
didn’t want to get divorced, but felt she couldn’t live with someone who was
not the man she thought she married. Mia’s faith in God had grown to new depths
as she grieved the loss of the man she loved. “Jesus loved me through the pain
and betrayal. I love my Savior so much. And now I just want to share that love
with others. I come to this park to feed people, and want them to know how much
Jesus loves them.” Mia’s heart is purely motivated by love… for Jesus and for
the homeless people in the park. I made her a specialized rock and whispered
words in her ears as she hugged me. Each tear she had cried over the years and
each tear she cried while we embraced, were collected by Jesus. Psalm 56:8
says, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in
your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” This is true for
Mia. This is you for every one of us.
I walked into the center courtyard of the park and sat down
on an empty bench. A guy I had seen yesterday came over to sit with me. His
name was Monty. Through my observations, I had pegged him as a surfer and
skater. This was confirmed as we talked in the park that was not far from the
Oceanside. Monty grew up in an apartment over a skate and surf shop. He had met
some of those who are famous for both sports. He had left home at a young age
and traveled along the coast for most of his life. Monty and I were close in
age and we used much of the same lingo in our language. After a while, I asked
him what word he needed most. Giving him time in his pause, he then said,
“Love.” I went over to the gazebo and sat by myself, scribing L-O-V-E on the
smooth rock. Another rock was started and a man walked over with a large
backpack that had two gnarly Aztec blankets, one strapped on top and one on the
bottom. “Dude, those blankets are dope.” --- “Yeah, I’ve had many things stolen
from me in my life, but these here I keep a close eye on. My name is Wayne, but
they call me Cajun. Can I sit with you for a bit?” Nodding, he sat down against
one of the gazebo’s cement columns. Cajun was a traveler who also stayed mainly
along the coast. He loved fishing and often would hook up with local fishermen
in the towns he landed in. They would hire him for a few days till he would
move to the next coastal city. Cajun felt more at home on a boat than on the
land. We had both traveled to similar states and cities, so we had much to talk
about. Monty came over and gave me a small bag full of travel shampoo, body
wash and soap. I gave him his “Love” rock. Good trade. Cajun saw the rock and
complimented me on the straight lines. Asking him what word he needed, he too,
paused, and then said, “Peace. I haven’t had peace in a long time.” So, a
“Peace” rock was made for Cajun, the fisherman without a home. I pray that in
his travels, Cajun will set sail with Jesus, the Prince of Peace.
The journey to the mission was made at 2pm. I was a couple
blocks from the yellow building when a young guy rode his black with red rims
bicycle up from behind me. “Hey, do you know where there is a mission here in
Panama City” --- “Yeah bro, it’s right there” I said, pointing ahead. “Sweet,
I’m so tired of riding my bike. You going there?” I nodded. His name was
Brandon. He had ridden his bike from Louisiana. The story he told me as he
walked his bike next to me to the mission, was unbelievable, but I believed every
word that Brandon told me. We would spend the next 4 hours together. He wasn’t
the typical homeless guy I had met throughout my own travels. Brandon was one
of those rare guys who had become homeless due to tragic circumstances. He
didn’t use drugs or struggle with mind-binding spirits. He was 37, in good
health, handsome, and trying to find a steady job to get off the streets he had
been living on for only 2 weeks. In that short time, he had experienced the
struggle to survive… slept in places he never dreamed of sleeping, been so cold
he stole the first thing in his life (a blanket), and been so hungry that he
would eat about anything. Welcome to the streets, buddy. But I knew Brandon
would pull through and with the heart, mind and body he had, he would not be on
the streets much longer. Still, he would never forget this chapter of his
life-story.
We went into the day shelter and he was introduced to Christopher’s
big heart. Brandon got an ID as well as got plugged into the work program for
men. He would sleep at the shelter for 5 nights, they would assist him in
getting a Florida ID, and then the staff would help him find a job upon which
he would start living in the men’s program dorm. He would give them a small
percentage of his work’s checks, and the rest would be saved for when he had
enough to get his own place. I had found a chair that had a wall behind it and
Brandon came over to sit in the chair next to me. He was so stoked. Letting out
a deep sigh and smiling so wide, he reached over and hugged me. “This is the
first time I have some hope in this whole messed up situation. I pulled out the
“Hope” rock I had made yesterday in the park and handed it to my new friend. We
celebrated his induction into the hall of hope with a bar of cranberry dark
chocolate he had in his backpack and a few slices of soft multigrain bread I
had in my backpack. Christopher gave us the Love hand gesture from across the
room.
Brandon and I talked on the dated floral chairs for the next
hour. When the day shelter closed, we migrated to the back side of the building
where we waited for them to open the doors of the chapel. We checked on his
bicycle that was poorly secured with a cheap lock on the side of the shelter.
Many new faces came up to us and introduced themselves, most wanting cigarettes
or simply curious as to the “new boy and girl on the block”. Brandon and I
would tell each of them that we were only friends, but the others would just
smirk at the two of us who had bonded so quickly that it was apparently visible
to the onlookers. We also saw Jay, Shoshane, Monty, Carol, Steve, Pepe Le Pew,
and Milton. When dinner was finally served, I watched Brandon eat the turkey, rice,
baked beans, apple sauce and bear-claw donut on his own tray, and then go back
for seconds of the heaping food. My friend was hungry… and worn down tired. The
turkey’s tryptophan took his tiredness to another level as we continued to talk
at the table after our meal.
We had 30min before Brandon would need to be in the mission
to stay there for the night. The two of us walked outside and around the front
of the building to sit on the sidewalk that faced the street. Our backs leaning
against the yellow, concrete wall, I felt led to share the whole truth with
Brandon…. That I was temporarily homeless, but by choice. He listened intently
as I told him about Jesus, our Rock and Redeemer. When I handed him a few $20
bills, Brandon started to cry. “You are the second person in 2 weeks that has
helped me without asking. I really needed to meet someone like you today. You
gave me that Hope rock, and that’s what I need right now. I believe you when
you say that God is for me, not against me.” We stood up and hugged without
letting go while time and cars went by. There is no doubt in my mind that
Brandon’s story of tribulation and triumph was going to impact people down the
road. He had already impacted mine.
Part of me wanted to stay a day or two more just to spend
more time with Brandon as well as my other new friends, but I knew it was time
to move on. I went back to the Wilson’s house that night and talked with them
till Al went to bed. Cindy and I continued talking for another hour, and then
my pillow was put back inside Tumbler. I patted him on the hood. “Get ready to
hit the road in 5 minutes, buddy.” Cindy prayed over me as her arms were wrapped
around my shoulders. It had been so valuable to have this safe home base while
here and this faith-based friend to soak up quality time with. God is writing
such an amazing story with Cindy… An intentional song of trust.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart.
And lean not on your own understanding.
In all your ways, acknowledged Him.
And He will make your paths straight.”
~Proverbs 3:5-6
Unshakable Peace and Purpose
Cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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