March 25th

As I wrote in the post from March 18th, I started going to the Red Zone with Jamie on Tuesdays.  I went again last Tuesday and, God willing, I will go with her tomorrow.

Today I want to share another, continual, observation I am having.  Looking out through the bars of the door I observe all sorts of things happening on the street.  Mostly it’s the pimps and boyfriends either trying to get into the women’s center or trying to get the women to hand them stuff through the door.

There are many other things too.  One Tuesday I happened to see one of the young women who had just a little while earlier had been in the center.  Now she was across the street standing in front of one of the sketchy motels on this street.  As she was standing there a guy walked up to her, opened her purse, took stuff out and walked away.  I stood and pondered that for a while and it has come to my mind a number of times since.

A couple of weeks ago I notice a guy sitting on the sideway a couple of doors down from the center, across the street.  My eyes fixed on him and I observed several things about him.  He was extremely dirty.  It appeared that he had either camouflage or dark green fatigues with a big coat.  His clothes seemed to be about three sizes to big for him.

As he sat on the sidewalk with his back leaned up against the wall, he kept patting one of the two really big, black trash bags.  Each looked to be a 55-gallon bag.  The way he was patting the one bag for a second, I wondered if there was a body inside of it; (haha my crazy imagination)but as he moved it around, I could tell it was full of either rags or clothes.

He had matted hair and he kept fluttering his fingers across his forehead.  He seemed to not be able to sit comfortably because he kept fidgeting around as he sat.

My thoughts went to wondering how long this man had been living on the street?  How long does it take to look like that?

As I stood staring at him through the safety of the bars of the door my mind went through all sorts of scenarios as to who this guy was and who had he been before.

Then a thought came to me.  Is this guy an angel?  Stay with me here as I explain this statement.  I truly believe that angels visit us.  God tells us this in Hebrews 13:2.  I can testify to at least twice when, I believe, I was ‘entertaining’ an angel. 

Anyway, the thought of him being an angel came to me and I wondered if God was testing my compassion.  I know that at times in my life I have not been very compassionate.  It is something I have tried to be better at.

I thought about it and I prayed about it, then I unlocked the door, stepped out, relocked the door and then walked directly across the street to a small tienda (store).  I bought two pieces of fried chicken and some tortillas from the very grumpy lady.  Then I walked down to Mister Dirty Street Guy.  I know that’s not his name but at the time that was the best way I could describe him.

I asked him if he liked chicken and gave him the food.  As I was looking right at his face, he answered me in a language I can’t even describe.  It wasn’t Spanish and it certainly wasn’t English.  All I could do was stare at him as he took the food and hid it under one of the plastic bags.

After a few seconds I just smiled at him, then turned around and walked back and locked myself back inside the women’s center. As God leads me I will relate to you my experiences with trying to minister to this guy.  Until he tells me his name, I plan to call him Leroy


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