A Flawed Legacy - 25

With my new "mandate" to "Go, be with My people" I decided the best way would be to become one of them and - after years of working in Labor offices, I had a fair idea of how they lived their lives.

So, I put my life in the hands of the Lord who I had learned to trust and chose to hitch-hike out of Dallas and headed North for no particular reason.   It was hot that day, July 1, but there was lots of traffic and I looked like a fairly responsible citizen.  I was wearing blue jeans, a tee shirt, loafers (bad choice) and carrying my Bible.  Along came a nice car, a friendly driver and had no problem stopping for me.  "How far are you going?" and without a thought about it, "Springfield, Missouri" was my answer.  We began chatting about the weather and other things we had in common until he came to a Howard Johnson's restaurant.  "Care to join me?" he asked, but I declined, saying that I needed to get on my way.  But when I noticed that he had met someone there, I headed for the lunch counter and ordered a cup of coffee.  Little did I realize that they charged $1.75 a cup and when I counted up the change I had in my pocket, I had $1.96.  Enough to a tip I thought and hurried back to the highway.  I also realized I had no money in my wallet.  There was money in the bank, not much, but I had forgotten about it.

To be honest, I did think about going back and getting some money, but decided that if I was really "on the road" for my Lord, He was going to have to meet my financial needs as well.

My next "ride" still lingers in my mind.  An old pick-up stopped and I saw three Latinos in the cab, but they offered me a ride - in the bed of the truck, along with a load of fresh tomatoes and a six pack of beer.  After an hour or so, I realized I was hungry and helped myself to one of the tomatoes and then, another and since it was as delicious as the first, I helped myself to more.  Also, since there was a beer right there, I helped myself to one of those as well.  Night fell and I sort of dozed off, when the truck stopped.  They got out of the cab, cursing as they opened the hood and paying no real attention to me when I saw other cars passing by.  I decided it was best for me to catch another ride, so I headed down the highway, hoping they would not notice the missing beer and accuse me of stealing it - which, of course, I had.  Fortunately for me, I was able to hail a semi-truck about to pass me by and I had a ride to the next truck stop.  "Get yourself something to eat," he said, "and I'll see if I can find another driver who could take you to Springfield".  He left and I was sitting at the counter, nursing a glass of water, when the waitress appeared with a plate of food and a milk shake.  "I didn't order this," I said, but she told me that a driver had and that he had paid for it.  As I was about to "give thanks" I noticed his truck head out of the driveway and leave.  "Thank you, Lord, for my ride, my meal and the privilege of meeting one of your Saints along the way."

I was able to find another truck headed North and he took me to the Interstate which led me to Springfield.   Along came another ride that was going my way and as it turned out, he was a Minister and I shared my reasons for my journey.  Well, after we had talked for awhile, he told me he was going to drop me off at a place where I could get a good night's sleep and it was near a Labor office where I might find a job.  As I got out of his car, he handed me a tract from his church and offered to get me a ride if I decided to stay in Springfield.   When I got to my room, I opened the tract and a $50 bill dropped out.

I was awake at 5AM the next morning and I was standing in the doorway of the Labor office when it opened.  Sure enough, I had a job, with another guy who claimed he "hated" the church, so we spent an interesting day.  He knew of a local Mission where we could stay at night and since we were told to come back to the job the next day, we headed that way.  I happened to see a used clothing store and headed there as I had picked the wrong shoes to work in, I needed "work" shoes, not loafers.

When I got to the Mission, my new friend was not there, but I did get a meal and learned there were no beds available.  There was an older hotel nearby, so I found a room there.  I was tired and went to bed early.  About 2AM, I was awakened by someone knocking on my door and discovered it was the guy I had worked with the day before.  He was drunk, had some food he had brought for me and let me know he was going to sleep there, in my bed.  No way, but he insisted and all I could think of was to rebuke him as I had seen in some of the churches I had attended in other places.  Laying my hands on his head and calling upon God to deliver me from this situation, I was startled to hear the window break and the guy passed out on the floor.  Some say it was his "demons" that broke that window.  I don't know. What I did know was that I had to pay for that window and fortunately, I could.

I discovered there was a bus station nearby and it was open, so I headed for it and bought a ticket to Kansas City to get away from that experience.  I got there early the next morning, found a Labor office, registered and sat there, all day long.  No job today, no hope for a job tomorrow.  I found a Mission and was about to learn a valuable lesson about "life" of the streets.  It seemed like a nice place.  You had to hear a sermon before you could eat and I will never forget the title they chose.  "He who the Son sets free, is free indeed."  I liked that.  It seemed like confirmation that I was on the tight track.  The "supper" was something else.  They called it "gruel" (or something like that) and it was nothing but a couple of pieces of carrots, a meat bone and hot water.  I was lucky.  I got one of the carrots.

Then, it was downstairs to our beds and there was a rush to get there, for some reason.  One of the guys ran into me and knocked me down, catching my shin against the edge of a stair step.  There was some blood, but nothing bad, so I found the last available bed, an upper, and I was OK until they closed the door behind us and - locked it!  Before they shut out the light, I noticed the only window in the place and that I was the only white guy.  Their race didn't bother me, but I began to wonder what we could do if the place caught on fire.  I didn't stand a chance of surviving, but then, neither did the the others.  You can believe that I did not get much sleep that night and I also realized, my leg had begun to swell.

A Flawed Legacy - 20

The easy part was finding "homes" for our youngsters.  The girls were eager to go to a friend's home who had been certified by the State and the boys went to a home that appealed to me.  There were other boys, the home was definitely led by a caring man and I was comfortable with the plans.  I expected we were on our way to real solutions for our most serious problems.

The Greyhound bus left on a bust Saturday afternoon.  It was May 9, 1975.  I went to sleep while we were riding past the desert areas of Southern California and after more sleep at night, we were in Phoenix, AZ, in the early morning hours.  Time for breakfast and I began to realize how unprepared I was for this trip.  Breakfast left me with $10 in my pocket.  That made me realize how important it was for all of us for me to be very careful about how I spent my resources.  I would need to get back to California   So, as we headed North, I decided I needed to "bone up" on my Bible studies as I would be meeting with a man, I assumed to know the Bible from the first page to the last.

Where to start?  Certainly not with the Older Testament as every attempt I had ever made to read the Bible would leave me confused as to why it was discussing old men with long names that were next to impossible to pronounce and places that made no sense to me.  I decided to start where Jesus started in His ministry and that would be easy for me to find.  Everything He was supposed to have said was printed in red letters.  That was easy.  It was in the forth chapter of Matthew, the first book in the Newer Testament, the 17th verse, where he says, "Repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand,"

Repent!  Repent?  I had no idea of what that word should mean to me.  Although I had been attending church for most of my life, I could not recall of anyone who had ever even mentioned the word.  And I was supposed to be meeting with someone I thought knew everything there was to know about the Bible?

I looked out of the window of the bus as it roared through the deserts of Arizona as if I was asking for help in defining that word, repent.  I have no idea as to how long it took for me to start recalling my childhood, but then I was and in particular, it was those arguments my Mother used to have with my Grandfather about the "costs" of keeping me on the farm.  I recalled that I was surprised by what my Grandfather was saying as I had thought I had been helping them - as sort of payment, but what hurt me was the fact that it did not sound as if I would ever be living with her.  It was through those arguments that I would learn my Father was seriously ill and now as I reflected on those conversations, I remembered that I knew my Father had died, but no one had ever told me what had happened.  I knew that I grew up almost hating my Mother for abandoning me - at least that was the way I thought about it, and now I began to realize, I had a real reason to repent.  I no longer loved my Mother; in a sense, I hated her.  I had real reasons to repent.

And I tried to do just that.  But I began to realize I had other issues.  I always seemed to reset my friends for what they had and I did tot have in way of clothes, toys, parents that did things for them, like taking vacations and I never had anything like that.  I had vividly remembered the trip my uncle took my grand parent to visit the World Fair in NY City and I thought, I would never get to do anything like that. Even when I was getting ready to graduate from high school, the others were talking about college and I just knew, I could never do that.  Issue after issue flooded my mind and now, I had failed my marriage and my responsibility for my children.  I was doing my best to make sure the others on the bus did not see me or worse, hear me.

So, I prayed and sobbed, sobbed and prayed, until it stopped.  A peace came over me that just the thought of how it felt thrills me to this very hour.  "God", I pleaded, "does this mean You have forgiven me?"  I happened to look out of the window of the bus and it was dark outside and raining.  I could see the lightning flashing against the mountains in the distance and as it did, I watched the wind of the bus as it raced through the night, sort of "rolling up" the road dirt and pushing it across the window.  I thought, "Oh my, does this mean my sins are being washed away?" - a phrase I had heard so often in church.  I don't know how to explain it, I felt that they had.  I vowed to God, I was through with "sin" as I knew it, in my life.  So, I turned on the overhead light and began to read so more.

That too, was amazing.  I had tried several times over the years to read my Bible.  I always seemed to have one available, but it was lost cause.  I would read a few verses and quit a as it seemed like I would never understand what it was saying - to me.  Now, I could not get enough and it seemed, every verse I read had a definite meaning to me.