I sat with Walter, leaning over to hear what he had to say over the busses and cars driving by. He told us about a deck of cards, and how each card represents God in different ways. He told us about how every day he gets to place his feet on this green Earth is a good day, a beautiful day. Mike asked him, “What did you do today?” Absolutely nothing. He had the biggest smile, and shot a knowing look at each of us.
I listened to Brenda’s story. She’s 68 years old, she fears God and isn’t afraid to talk about Him. She feeds about 500 birds a day. She told stories of the bible that we took for granted, but something about being taught by Brenda brought some new fire and passion behind them. She isn’t afraid to talk about her husband, who died. She isn’t afraid to share her stories with others, loving on all who want to receive it. She shares pieces of paper with people she feels need a little message, a little encouragement. That’s how she chooses to serve. She has a generous heart.
Anette was sitting on the train station, and was surprised to see us. There had been groups of us from our school in the past who used to come by to talk with her all the time, but where are they? We listened in their place, at least for that night. She looked at us with intensity, “You know what separates men from boys?” We guessed, character. “You’re right. All these boys got are a dick and two balls. You two watch out okay? Make sure that you have some character.” I nod in full agreement, wondering what experiences in her life motivate her to share that with us. I wanted to learn her story, and without even asking she shared.
“I got my phd in psychology at the age of nineteen from a prestigious university in Germany. After years of raising my son as a single parent, I found a man down here in San Diego who taught me the bible. We got married after a while, and during our honeymoon, he took my fortune, and left me. That’s how I ended up on these streets.”
She told us about the time a lady in an electric scooter ran her over, and left her with seizures and broken fingers from bracing herself during her seizures. She showed us the stitches on her head from all the falls, and complains about memory lapses.
“Come back next time, okay?” She smiled, and my heart was warmed.
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