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.