Homeless, Hungry, Cold and Alone on Thanksgiving

 

It’s Thanksgiving Day, 2021.

My morning ritual is to drive to Dunkin Donuts for an iced coffee, then drive around a bit. Today, I was stopped at the traffic light at the intersection of Brookpark and State Roads, someone limped through the cross walk. They were small built, dirty and disheveled. I guess them to be a girl, by the size of their boots.  I watched them enter the parking and fueling area of the 7-Eleven, they were unsteady, possibly high on something, or maybe they were just tired.

The light turned green, and I started east on Brookpark, again.  After another block or two, I turned around and drove back from the way I had come.  I glanced at the 7-Eleven and saw the small person now sitting on the concrete walkway in front of it.  I drove on. A short time later, I turned around again, drove to the 7-Eleven, and parked.  Walking up to the little bundle of dirty clothing, I said, “Hi. Are you okay?”

She looked up through her decaying teeth and stringy hair and told me she was trying to get back to 73^rd and Clark, in Cleveland. Someone had dropped her off in Parma, and she needed a ride back. I asked if there was someone I could call to come and get her? She said no, no one. She had been homeless for five years. She was picking at her skin, I said, “Meth?” She said, “Yeah, Meth and Heroin.”

I thought about calling an Uber or Lyft for her, but then decided that they would likely not pick her up.

I went into the store and talked to the girl working the register, explaining there was a homeless person, pretty sure it’s a girl, sitting outside in the rain.  Is there anyone locally we can call? A church group? A homeless shelter? She said she did not know of any.  I said I did not want to have her arrested, just someone to help her - sitting outside on a cold rainy Thanksgiving Day.

I went back to my truck, and sat it in. What was the right thing to do? Not seeing any other options, other than me taking her “home,” which I believed could be dangerous, as I was unarmed, among other reasons. I decided to call the Parma Police. I called that number, which gave me another number, and spoke to the dispatcher, explaining that I was trying to find some way to help this girl. The dispatcher was not unsympathetic, but not sympathetic either. It was just another call about another homeless person. They would send a car.

I walked back to the girl on the sidewalk, and she was eating a breakfast sandwich. I said, “You have food, great!” She said someone gave it to her. I said, “There are good people in the world.” She shook her head and took another bite. I told her that I was still trying to find someone to help her.

Walking back to my truck, I saw the girl working the cash register walked back our with more food and some orange juice for her.  I walked back to her and told her that was a nice thing to do, and handed her some money to buy her more food, or pay for what she just gave her. She said I didn’t have to do that, I said, please, take it. She said thank you.

I got in my truck and drove back to my warm, safe home.

If you are reading this, you have much to be thankful for.

Today, the God was a homeless girl, addicted to meth and heroin, sitting outside a 7-Eleven on Thanksgiving.

³⁵ for I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: ³⁶ naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. ³⁷ Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? ³⁸ When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? ³⁹ Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? ⁴⁰ And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

Matthew 25:35-40

God Needed a Ride to Church

 

I was driving south on Pearl Road, in Parma Heights, Ohio Sunday morning.  I go out for a morning drive, nearly every day, to get an iced coffee.  I started doing it when this crazy covid world began, just to see what was going on out there, if the non-stop fear campaign on TV lined up with the reality in the real world. It did not, but that’s another story, or blog post.

 

There is construction on Pearl Road, with traffic down to one lane in either direction. As the saying goes, “There are two seasons in Ohio, winter and construction.”  They probably say that anywhere where that has weather.  The road construction brought the speed down to about 15-20 MPH.  Pearl is a slow drive when there is no construction and I wondered what I was thinking when I decided to drive down it from Bookpark.  As I approached the intersection of Pearl and York/Stumph, I noticed a woman standing on the sidewalk, on my left, near the entrance to the drive through for Dunkin Donuts. 

She looked troubled. As I rolled by, I saw her make the sign of the cross and stick her thumb out. “That’s weird,” I thought to myself.  “If I was going that direction, maybe I’d give her a ride.” I do that - help strangers. Not every day, I do not go out looking to be a Boy Scout, but every now and then you will have someone cross your path. Sometimes the person crossing your path is just trying to con you out of “a few dollars to buy some gas.” That is an old con, but an older woman hitchhiking in front of a Dunking Donuts at 8:30am on a rainy Sunday morning? (Did I mentioned it had been raining on and off?) Odd. Not likely to be a scam. Maybe a mugging, but not a scam. LOL

She must have seen me through the window of my truck because she walked a few steps down the sidewalk towards me and waved. I hit the button, rolling down my driver’s side window and asked where she was going? “Church! I am trying to get to church.”

I said, “Hang on, I will turn around and pick you up.”  I made a left on York, turned through the construction on York, into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot.

 

She was still facing Pearl Road as I pulled up to the drive-through exit, and said, “Where are trying to get to?”

“Saint Mary’s, in Old Brooklyn. It’s on Pearl.” 

Old Brooklyn is a few towns north up the road. I told her to hop in and I would take her.

She opened the door and stepped on into my truck. It’s a black Ram 1500, Dark Edition. It is stock, but quite high off the ground.

She said “Thank you, I can give you money for gas” as she struggled with the seat belt.

I told her not to worry about gas money and helped her buckle in. “Maybe giving you a ride to church will make up for me not going to church” I said.

We began what I hopped would be a short, uneventful journey up Pearl Road.

She told me she wanted to get to Saint Mary’s because she needed to talk to the priest there. She had started in Strongsville, which was two towns south of the Dunkin Donuts. The said the bus schedules must have changed and she got caught in the rain.

I hoped God appreciated her efforts to get to church.

There are many Catholic Churches between Strongsville and Old Brooklyn, why she had to get to this particular one, I did not ask. She probably grew up there. It is hard to move to a new church.

She told me that she was a recovering alcoholic, and had, a few years back sat in a cemetery contemplating suicide, but after laying among the dead for some time, decided not to join them. I said, “It’s probably your best choice, suicide is forever.”

I told her that being from Eastern European ancestry, I understood alcoholism and how I had uncles who served in World War II and Korea who drank. That was how people delt with PTSD before it was called PTSD.

She told me she hoped that the priest wouldn’t kick her out of the church. “Why would he do that?” I asked.

“Because I am late.”

I laughed and said, “I think with everything the Catholic Church has gone through over the past years, they would be happy to have you show up!"

“Just sit in the back.That’s the best place to be anyway.” I said.

She went onto tell me how she lived with her mom and dad and took care of them. “They are 87 and both use walkers, but they are doing okay.” I told her that my Dad had died at 87, after a short battle with cancer.

It occurred to me that sometimes we just want to tell someone our story.

My dad taught me to be kind to strangers.

We drove on, and in a short time arrived at Mary Queen of Peace Catholic Church. It’s a big, grand old church. Built back in the time when the church was the center of most people’s lives. When the whole family went to church on Sunday’s because that’s what you did. Before stores were open on Sundays. When people were praying for the lives of their sons fighting in wars in faraway lands.

I pulled into the parking lot and let her put near an entrance. She thanked me again for the ride, and I told her I was happy to do it.  I really was.

She got out and walked to the entrance, leaving behind a faint hint of a musty, Salvation Army Store smell in my truck. I pulled back onto Pearl Road and headed south.

Reflecting upon what has just transpired, I thought maybe it was a little crazy to give a stranger a ride, giving the state of the world. But is the world really any crazier than any other time? Are there more dangerous people out there on Sunday mornings, posing as desperate souls? That’s doubtful.

The news over the past 18 months has been a non-stop propaganda campaign to stay away from strangers. They have germs! You could die! You could kill them! They may be a little musty, but there is no real danger in being kind.

Today, the Face of God was a woman caught in the rain, trying to get to church.

God Sends an Emergency Alert

Last night I was lying in bed scanning Telegram for news feeds. I saw a story about Pastor Artur Pawlowski of Calgary, Canada who was arrested for holding church services during the COVID lock downs. The charge is, “organizing an illegal in-person gathering, as well as “requesting, inciting or inviting others.”  I clicked on the link for a news report, and it launched the news report. If you don’t know the story of what is happening in Canada and Pastor Pawloski, you can read about it on RebelNews. In short, Pastor Arthur has been outspoken in his defiance to government orders against holding worship services, much to the embarrassment of the Calgary Police. They are angry.

This is where it gets weird…

I have been following the development and escalation of the Pastor Arthur story, and Canada’s (you know, the “nicer” country to the North), descent into a full-on totalitarian police state. I decided I could finish watching/listening to the story in the morning. I closed the browser on my iPhone, and the feed stopped playing. A second or two later, the audio started up again. Thinking I must not have actually closed the browser, I did the double click on my phone to show me everything that was running. I closed all the other browsers I had open. The audio kept playing. Okay then… I closed every app that was running on my phone. The audio kept playing. It did not stop until the news report was finished.

I lied there, more than a little stunned about what had just happened. I could not recall of another time any of my smart phones had done that. I thought, “Okay God, I get the message. I will donate to Pastor Arthur’s legal defense tomorrow!”

I took me awhile to fall asleep.

When I woke up this morning and thought donating money was not enough. This is not just a story worth sharing, it’s a story that needs sharing.  It has been too long since I wrote something for my Faces of God blog, due to lack of inspiration.  I think I found some inspiration.

I don’t know what happened, if this is a common bug in the Apple IOS system, or if it was a divine intervention of a heretofore unknown feature.  (If the FBI/CIA/NSA has a backdoor into my phone, why wouldn’t God?)

 

As someone who has read many many books on The Holocaust, The Holodomor, The Khmer Rouge, Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, The Trail of Tears, to name a few and how easily it is to turn humanity against itself with propaganda. I see “Never Again” happening now, on a global scale.

The Face of God showed up on my iPhone, with a warning and this insight - Jesus isn’t coming back to save us from the nightmare around the next corner. Either is “QAnon” or Donald Trump. It’s up to us, it’s up to you to stand up and push back. DO SOMETHING. When they start arresting ministers, that is an alarm bell that should not be ignored. Donate to Pastor Arthur's defense, share this blog, if nothing else.