processing

There are moments in this life that I just have to sit down and process. Many nights I crawl in my little bed and lay there staring at the ceiling, processing. So many things happen in this downtown area. So many things on the street where I live. So many things on my porch. Lord help me process all of this. Living a life where you are available, and living a life where you are interruptible = living a life serving Jesus. I really just wanted to go to spin class. I had driven home from New Orleans and met a friend at the park over in midtown and was planning on going to the y. When I got home Patrick was sitting on my porch. I had already passed him walking down the street earlier and he looked away from me, not wanting me to see him. But here he was. He starts talking, rambling, crying, repenting, crying, talking, rambling. Crying over the guilt from a past life of murder, gangs, violence, drugs, on and on and on. He stinks really bad, not sure how long it's been since he has bathed. He has breath soaked with alcohol. I am just standing on the porch listening, in my clothes ready for spin class. I give him a ride to the store, where he might convince someone to help him find a place to stay for the night. On the way we stop at the end of the street to talk to some of the guys that live down there, they start talking in a language I do not understand - gang talk. He continues to ramble and cry and confess and cry and ramble. He listens to me, when I can get a word of truth in. Truth that Jesus suffered for him, died for him, rose for him, endured for him, loves him. He doesn't know how to forgive or love himself, that is the lie satan has him believing. Gosh it is so hard sometimes. I leave him at the store, stop in the parking lot and begin to process. No spin for me, other than Jesus spinning my heart to love Patrick even more, see him redeemed, set free. If I ever get to the point where I don't have to stop and process moments like this, I need to check myself. Something is wrong with my heart if I become immune to this. Interrupted, inconvenienced, and even a little irritated. I don't want this to ever be easy. I'd give up spin for the rest of my life for this moment with Patrick, and the processing that comes after.

waited almost two years for this day

I thought I had written a particular day almost two years ago down in my journal, but it is not in there. However, it is embedded in my mind and my heart so I can't ever forget it. Especially after today. Shortly after I moved downtown to WWGO, I was in Biloxi for work one day having lunch at Lil Rays. I was sitting at a table by myself enjoying a poboy when an older couple came in and sat next to me. They ordered fried pickles. For some reason I asked them if they were good. That sparked a conversation that further confirmed I was not crazy by moving to Congress Street when every day since moving there I thought I was. As we talked I found out the couple lived in Jackson and had a home on the coast as well. She worked part time at the Fairview Inn and had a daughter named Mary that was a prostitute and crack addict in Jackson. I told her that I didn't know Mary but I would look for her. I started praying for Mary that day and just asked Jesus to send her right to us. That he would literally bring her to my door one day. When I got in my car to leave Lil Ray's, I just cried, at how strategic God is. That's not coincidence, that is his perfect plan. He sat down for lunch at the exact place, at the exact time, for a specific reason that day. Today I got to see the other side of that. Sure, over the course of two years I have not prayed for Mary every day, but every time I thought about her mother and how desperate she was for her daughter to walk in freedom, I prayed prayed prayed for her. Several months ago, before I moved to Cohea Street, Mary Ellen appeared at the rooming house behind us. We quickly bonded and became friends. Prayed for her a lot. Over the last month she has gone from singing in the choir at a near by church, back into the darnkess that she was delivered from. Today I was driving circles around Farish Street looking for my friend David, but never saw him. When I got to the corner of Monument and Farish, I saw Mary Ellen walking. She got in the car and I gave her a ride to the end of Capitol Street. We can't save everybody, but we can sure give them a ride somewhere and share truth with them. In the middle of Capitol Street, through the course of our conversation, I realized THIS was the Mary I have been praying for, for TWO years! I had no clue months ago when I met her that Jesus literally did bring her to my door. I mean, WOW. If he can do something small like that, I am going to be shocked with his goodness at the big big big he can do with Mary. That's the king I serve.