Calling the streets "HOME"

  July 30, 2011 seemed like the usual hot, sticky, day in Houston. The roads were sprinkled with cars everywhere. I 45 was busy and bustling! Today was no different than other day except today we would meet a few of our brothers and sisters that call the streets home. A group of 20 gathered together this morning with a non-profit organization called I 45&HOPE. Two drivers scale the feeders of I45 and feed the homeless along the way. What came out from the darkness was actually brightness. I wish I could share with you their smiles and love. These are people you would love! Men and women who have lost their footing. They need our love and support. So many have no one to help them out. Yet, there are some who could be pulled out, but just can't seem to grab their loved one's hand. The story below is from my dear sister in Christ, Kimberly Constant. She is a perfect example of what God can do when you release your heart, body and soul to him. The story you will read next is from her about her Uncle who also found a home on the street.
Here are some of the sweethearts that I met today: James, Ken, Sheryl, Shephard, Sanford, Lolli, Jeremy, Little York, Palmer, Tidwell, Gerald, and Stanley   You can meet them and help many others by visiting~ www.45Hope.org

It’s the phone call you never want to get. The one that marks a split second in time when your life is forever changed. For my family, that phone call came Saturday morning January 9. For my Grandmother it was the news that her precious son, Kenneth (Kenny as we called him) had passed away. For my Mom and her siblings it was learning of the death of their beloved brother. For me, it was the loss of my sweet uncle, the one who called me his “boodle roodle” and gave me my favorite barbie doll. For our family, this news was doubly sad because we found out that Kenny died in a cold weather shelter for the homeless. He was only 50, but he was profoundly overweight and suffered from various ailments. That he lived on the streets did not come as a shock to us, but it was difficult to hear nonetheless. No one wants their much loved family member to die in a homeless shelter. We believe that Kenny suffered from schizophrenia, although he was so secretive that he would not allow his doctors to talk to the family, so we do not know for sure if this was the disease that plagued him. Whatever was inside his head it caused him to create two worlds for himself -- the one in which he lived each day and the life he shared with his family. He did not allow these two worlds to coexist. My grandmother would meet him once a week at a designated parking lot and she would collect his dirty laundry, return his clean clothes that she had washed, give him some money, maybe go to lunch or just sit and talk for a while. He was offered a place to live on many occasions, but he refused. We noticed that as the years past he would be a little dirtier, a little more unkempt each time we saw him -- but we dare not question for fear he would alienate us all together. And though his outward appearance changed, his inward self stayed true -- he was kind, he was funny, he was . . . Kenny. This continued on until a few years ago when my parents moved to North Carolina and my grandparents moved with them. It was so hard for my grandma to leave Kenny -- she and my Mom offered to move him too and buy him a house near them, but he did not want to go -- he did not want to leave his life. As hard as this was for our family to understand, we could only accept him and love him. My parents and grandparents now visited him annually when they went to Southern California and the same ritual ensued -- meeting in a parking lot, spending a few hours together, then off to his secret life. We knew his health was declining and my Mom told her parents to brace themselves -- that his time on earth could not be much longer. And yet, despite the fact that we knew it was coming, the phone call was still excruciating as we as a family sat contemplating Kenny’s final days and wishing we could have helped in some way.

As we all prepared to travel out to California for the memorial, I prayed and asked my friends and fellow Renew sisters to join me in praying for my grandma -- that she be released from the guilt that she had carried around all these years, that she would no longer feel like she failed as a mother. God in his awesomeness was so ready to answer. An article was published in the Whittier Daily News about my uncle and his passing. It mentioned a memorial service put together by the staff at a local church that took turns hosting the cold weather shelter with other churches (it was at a new location each week). This same church also hosts a daily soup kitchen at 3pm so that families and individuals on the streets can come and get a hot meal, toothbrushes, toiletry kits and bus fare. 80 people attended this service. The community came together to say goodbye to a man they called “the mayor.” He and his best friend, Augie, were the first organizers among this community of homeless. Before the shelter existed, there was a building where they would sleep on cold or rainy nights because it had a small alcove where they were not as exposed to the elements. Other homeless began to hear of this location and asked Kenny if they could stay there too -- “well do drop by” he would say. And so it became known as The Dew Drop Inn. As Augie told me, he sought to help others, to give them the shirt off his back when he barely had a shirt to begin with. To the residents of Whittier, California, Kenny was a beloved and well known member of the community. I cannot begin to tell you how much this article brought comfort to our family, especially my grandmother. She was beginning to realize that although he died without a home, he did not die alone or abandoned. He went to sleep surrounded by friends with whom he had carved out a life on the streets for 20 years and he passed peacefully from that place to the arms of God the Father. The load was lightened a little.

But it wasn’t until we arrived in California, until we visited the shelter and met the people who loved for him and cared for him when we could not that the load was removed all together. It was there that we saw the fullness of God’s love and grace -- his mercy -- his provision -- it was there that I would see many many examples of selfless service for the glory of God. The day before the memorial we stopped by the shelter so we could meet the people who volunteered there as well as Kenny’s friends. Story after story emerged about Kenny -- how he served others and how others served him. So many people came up to tell us that Kenny was like a brother to them, or to the younger residents, like a father. His best friend said what little Kenny had, he shared willingly. He was fond of hugs and would often ask people in the community if he could “have a hug.” They said his smile was infectious and his spirit filled with joy. Through tears I watched as my grandparents reached out to hug and be hugged by people who must be shunned by human contact all day long -- there were no lines anymore, no barriers -- they were all broken down by God’s love shown through a simple man in a simple place. The people at the shelter were those who, in the past, I would have been fearful of, or, sad to say, disgusted by, or worse yet . . . I would not have even seen them at all. But Kenny brought us together and God showed me and my family the humanity of these people -- their beauty, their kindness -- I saw them through the Lord’s eyes.

The next morning was his memorial service -- and by my Dad’s estimate, there were close to 100 people in attendance. It was there that we met the former NFL player. He told me that he came to volunteer at the shelter after it was hosted by his daughter’s school. His daughter, son and wife encouraged him to join them in serving -- and it was on this trip that he met Kenny. He said they bonded immediately over a shared love of sports and quickly formed a strong friendship. Kenny’s best friend told me that this man -- whose name was Vince Evans -- gave Kenny the shoes off of his feet one day when he noticed that Kenny’s were terribly worn. Vince said his time volunteering at the shelter has been so amazing that he now volunteers a few times a week. He took Kenny to church with him when he spoke in front of a crowd of about 300 to 400 men. He told the men his favorite story. He said that one day when he was out for a morning run he saw Kenny sleeping on a bench. He went over to him to say hi and see if he was okay. He tapped him on the shoulder and Kenny woke up. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he said “is that you Vince? What are you doing?” Vince said “I’m running.” And Kenny said “from the cops?” Vince said “no Kenny, I’m just out running for exercise.” And with that Kenny shrugged, said okay, and went back to sleep. But best of all -- Vince led Kenny to Jesus. And when I tried to thank him for all that he did for my uncle, for my family, he said oh no I went to serve others but I am the one who was served. And the final story, the one which will stay in my heart forever, is of a woman who, for many years, brought my uncle a banana and a box of juice every morning. She even showed up the morning after he died and Augie had to tell her that Kenny had passed away. He said she cried for 30 minutes. Here was a woman who loved Kenny and served him in such a simple, yet profound way. The juice lady, as she is now known by my family, brought it all home for us. At the funeral the minister said that he hoped that through Kenny’s legacy we would each grasp the width, depth and height of God’s love -- and the juice lady showed us that. Her simple service has sent ripples through my family as those that have not yet accepted the Lord as their savior pause to wonder what would motivate someone to do something like that for a stranger. Those of us who have accepted the Lord pause to wonder how we, too, might serve in such a way. Kenny’s story has now been shared with so many -- and I wonder what each of us in this room will do with the legacy he has left. How will we serve? Whom will we serve?

While my family still grieves over our loss and still struggles with releasing the guilt we carry for not doing enough for my uncle, we also move forward knowing that the next time we serve a stranger, the next time we do some small thing for someone else, be it a member of the homeless community or not, we will be serving someone’s beloved son, brother, uncle . . . we will be serving a child of God. After the memorial was over and we as a family were sitting at the hotel exchanging stories about Kenny my grandma said “you know, I feel like I did something right after all.” As a mother, all you want is for your children to be good people, to love and be loved, to know the Lord. Kenny didn’t have any worldly possessions -- he really didn’t aspire to have any, he never married, he never had children -- but he was a good man, he loved others and others loved him, and he knew the Lord. He instilled his love in a community that was without love and from that community has blossomed hope. Hope that God really does love and care for his children, that small acts of service do make a difference, that we can greatly effect the lives of others and bring glory to God even if we have nothing . . even if we have everything. My family also has hope because now we know, thanks to the people we met, that Kenny did love the Lord and so we will see him in heaven someday. And that is the biggest comfort of all. We have hope because Jesus tells us that in heaven he has prepared a place for us that we might be there with him. So you see, my Uncle Kenny finally has a home. And not just a home, but a mansion in heaven. Its been there waiting for him all this time. And he is now healed, he is whole, he is at peace -- he is surrounded by the love of God which has no end. It is only by the grace of God that this story does not end with sorrow, bitterness, regret or anger -- it ends with hope, with love, with redemption, with a promise. And so I leave you with the word of God -- 1 Peter 5:2 “Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care -- not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be . . . [be] eager to serve.”