Day 81: "Cause Where There is a Man Who Has No Voice...."

Last week, I was finishing up my morning visualization walk when I saw a man that had helped me tremendously during the time when I was homeless.  I was so surprised to see him just a couple doors down from where I live.  He was toting two grocery baskets filled to the brim with blankets and what looked like odds and ends, and he was walking down the middle of a very busy street with cars passing on both sides of him.   I wanted to stop and say hello and "thank you--your kindness is remembered by me always," but he looked like he was delusional and maybe dangerous.  It looked from a distance that he might possibly be in some sort of psychosis so I decided that I would just pray for him and his well-being and go on with my day as much as I had wanted to stop and connect with him.  I shared the story with a couple of friends and asked if they would pray for him.  He has a very special place in my heart.  

When I met Chad, the man that helped me, it was 2020, and it was the year that I was on the street in a psychosis of my own.  I had met him in a laundromat where we were both doing our laundry, and he shared with me that he was a Viet Nam Vet.  He described how life had been rough for him since he had moved out to California where he had been living on the streets for several years, and I listened intently as he shared his story.  He was kind and very lucid when I met him, and over the year that I was out there, I came to find out that he was fairly well-known by security guards in the area and very well-liked.  I would see him from time to time when I would walk by the area where he was panhandling, and he was always sweet, respectful and kind to me.  

There were four days during that year that I was on the street that I didn't have a dime to my name.  Both my wallet and phone had been stolen while I was asleep, and I was left with no means to purchase any food or anything to drink.  It was terrifying. There were a handful of people that helped me during that time and for them I will always be grateful.  Chad was one of them.  

The morning I realized my wallet was gone, I went down the street from where I was sleeping in my car to the Hispanic man who was sleeping on the corner in a tent.  His name was Israel, and he lived there on that corner with his dog, Chiquita.  I often found him smoking heroin or doing some other drugs when I walked by and waved on my way out for the day, but he too was always kind to me.  On the morning after my wallet was stolen, I arrived at his tent, and I told him, "Israel, someone has stolen my wallet, and I have no way to buy any food."  While he barely spoke English, he understood me enough and immediately rose and went in to the back of his tent.  A couple minutes later, he emerged with a twenty dollar bill and handed it to me.  The next night, without any further provocation, he also bought me and another homeless girl dinner with no expectation of anything in return.  

Sometimes I wonder if Israel was really real at all.  Maybe, he was just a thoughtful, unassuming homeless man who lived on a corner in a tent and who just happened to be there for me when I needed a helping hand. Or Maybe, just maybe, he was an angel.  I believe in that possibility.  I think that heaven sometimes gives us tests to see who we really are and what our character is, and sometimes, I think we are given exactly the help we need in much the same way.   After all, "God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform." (Cowper, William. "Light Shining Out of Darkness", 1-2)

By the fourth day, I was out of money again, and as I was walking near a busy intersection a couple miles from where my car was parked, I saw Chad.  He was panhandling from the center median of the street, and he waved and came over to me immediately.  I told him how my wallet had been stolen and that I once again had no idea how I was going to eat.  He told me not to worry and to wait there for him for a couple minutes, and he would help me.  He then proceeded to beg on the corner for money for twenty minutes until he had enough money to buy me lunch at Chipotle.  And that wasn't the end of his kindness either.  

I was eventually able to find a way to order a new debit card so that I had access to my money again.  Once I did, I was able to find both Chad and Israel and return their kindness to me.  I paid Israel back the $20 and went with a friend to the 99 Cent Store and bought him all kinds of things to refurbish his tent--food and furnishings and a bed for Chiquita.  I was able to buy dinner for Chad and afterwards, when I was beginning my walk to the hotel that I was staying in that night, he insisted on walking me the entire 3.5 miles to the hotel entrance. It was dark outside, and he wanted to make sure I got there safely even though it meant he would have to walk the entire 3.5 miles back to where he was sleeping that night.  

That was three years ago now, and then, out of nowhere, one morning last week, Chad suddenly appears again just minutes from where I live as I mentioned above.   Five hours later that day, with the memory of the morning's sighting still fresh in my head, I was staring out the window on the bus ride home from an errand I had run in Calabasas.  While I was still a good mile away from where I live, I saw Chad again, but this time he was walking through traffic on the boulevard.  It was over 100 degrees out, and it didn't look to me like he had any water or food.  I figured that it was not an accident that this was the second time that I saw him in one day so I asked the bus driver to please stop the bus and let me out.  He was kind enough to do so, and I ran to catch up with Chad.  When I finally caught up with him, I asked him if he remembered me.  "Do I remember you?" he said laughing.  "Of course, I do.  I walked you to your hotel that night".  

I couldn't believe that with the way he looked from an outside perspective, hauling shopping carts through the middle of the street, that he was completely lucid, but he was.  I was so grateful that I heeded the synchronicity and stopped.  I told him once again that I would never forget what he did for me three years ago, and I asked him if we could go in and buy him so groceries.  I told him that I had a little bit of money that I could share with him so that he had some food and supplies to at least temporarily contend with the unbearable heat.  We spent about 20 minutes together shopping and catching up, and then we finally walked outside and brought the groceries back to where the carts were. 

As I was getting ready to go, he told me that while things were harder than they had ever been, it was the loneliness that was the hardest part of it all.  How I could relate!  I had no solution for him, but I hugged him and told him I would be thinking of him and praying and that he mattered to me.  I thanked him again for what he did for me, and I told him that I would see him again soon although I didn't know for sure it that was true.  With that, I turned and headed home--a changed person.  

When I got home and sat at the table, I thought about the air conditioning that was on, the food that I had in the refrigerator, and the bed I had to sleep in that night.  I thought about the ice-cold water I had to drink whenever I wanted it.  Chad would have no reprieve from the heat as far as I could see until the sun went down around 8 pm that night not to mention any regular access to a restroom.  I thought about him last Sunday when the tropical storm moved through, and I wondered where he would find shelter.  I continue to pray that God might use me as a solution for Chad and other people struggling with homelessness right now.  I continue to count my blessings and to remember them in my prayers. 

And I am reminded of a very special song that has a lot of meaning to me.  It was 2010, and I woke up one morning to it playing in consciousness as clear as day.  Back then, waking up with a song in my head didn't happen all that often the way that it has been happening recently, and because of that, it was very easy to identify that there was probably a message in it for me.   The song was "Hands" by Jewel, and as I listened carefully to the lyrics version playing that morning, I very clearly received the message that was meant for me inscribed in that song:

"We'll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what's right
'Cause where there's a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing"

--Jewel, "Hands"

It was a message about my mother back then.  She had had a really bad car accident, and her car had been totaled; she had sustained some injuries as well.  The insurance had refused to pay so she had to hire an attorney.  She was working a full time job at the time that was not paying all that well, and she was very concerned about money.  And she was tired.  She had been fighting the insurance company for close to a year, and the morning that I woke up to that song playing was the morning of her final court date.  I had been asked to testify on her behalf by her lawyer.  

I got to the courthouse early with the intention to meditate outside the court room until I was called to testify.  I had felt at the time that the onus was on me to win her court case.  I loved her so much, and I really wanted to take her stress away and help her get that payout so she could get a new car and move on with her life.  I prayed, and I meditated for close to two hours before they called me in hoping that God would give me the right and perfect words to say during my testimony.  

When they finally called me up, I do remember running circles around the attorney who was deceitfully angling her questions to me in an attempt to make my mother look bad in order to win the case for the insurance company.  I testified honestly telling the truth about my mother's character--that she was honest, loving, hard-working and an incredible mother and that she didn't deserve what this insurance company was putting her through.  I testified that she had been a single mother and raised my older brother by herself before she met my father working three jobs at one point and that she was the same person today that she was back then--someone who was willing to do whatever it takes to support herself and do the right thing.  

When I looked up after the questioning was completed, I was crying, my mother was crying, and so was every member of the jury.  Clearly, the statement that I was trying to make had gotten through, but that being said, they threw my testimony out saying that I was her daughter and that my testimony was not objective and should be disregarded.  She lost the court case.  While she and I were both incredibly disappointed, I know that that time in that courthouse was a very special gift from God.  My mother got to hear my real opinion of her in front of a room of strangers and would know from that moment on how much I loved and respected her and how I would do anything for her. 

As I pulled out of the courthouse parking lot, I got a very special confirmation from Heaven.  A car pulled in front of me as I was pulling up to the kiosk to leave the lot and around it's license plate were the words "Mary's Little Lamb of God".  My mother's name was Mary.

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Jewel, "Hands"

Spirit, Atlantic, 1988