Three men. The common
thread shared among them is blatantly obvious.
Ten feet and the distance is closing. It's too easy to just nod and walk
on, averting our eyes from the heartbreak of humanity. That man with the plastic
bag of groceries? That's all he's got. Sometimes, just talking to people,
people who have a story to tell will leave you feeling like your very soul has
been ripped open. People are lost. People are searching. People are hurting.
Nineteen years old. Daddy- already dead. Nineteen years old.
Mama-dead, gone. A young man stands
alone, too old for the system, yet too young to have a foot hold in life. Too
young and no one to show him how to rise above the hand of cards life has dealt
him; the circumstances born in. The cycle begins: Alcohol, drugs, homelessness. LOST. The next
thirty four years will bring little change. He extends his hand, a hand worn by
age and hard, hard living. Rough, rough skin. A face withered from living life in
the outdoors breaks into a toothless grin. The stench of alcohol escapes with
his greeting of “Hello ma’am”. I raise my eyes to his. I try to peer beyond his
sunglasses. I know why he wears them. My
soul literally feels broken into a million pieces as this “Black Sheep” as he
calls himself, shares bits and pieces of his story. “Frederick” he says. Not
Freddy, that’s the other guy…not Fred…”Frederick”. That’s the name he makes sure I know. The
name he wants brought before my Father. The
name he repeatedly says “Always, remember Frederick in your prayers ma’am.” This
man, who seems so much older than his fifty three years, wants to make sure “Frederick”
will be lifted up, not forgotten.
“Frederick”, sir, [Black
Sheep] sir, my Father, MY FATHER searches
out the lost sheep, that ONE sheep who isn’t safe in the fold. Are you a believer
Frederick? Do you know the Father?” He
says he does. He folds his hands to represent prayer , looks up and points up
with his hands still folded and talks about “God”. He knows who his Creator is. Still, Frederick
wants to be on someone’s prayer list. “Every
day pray for Frederick. Say my name.” The prayer list grows, to include
Frederick, Freddy and the third man too.
I fought tears walking back to my car. I don’t fight them
while remembering this man and his friends. I let them fall. They solidify that the hurt
of humanity is raw. I hope it doesn' heal. I don’t want to forget…
Luke 15:1-7 Then
drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him.And the
Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth
with them. And he spake this parable unto them, saying, What man of you, having
an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in
the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?And when he
hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh
home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice
with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.
Mark another one off my Bucket List. The forest floor below the towering pines offers a padding or bed, if you will, of pine needles so thick that even in thirty degree weather, one will not feel the cold that has firmly gripped the ground. It's a reminder of the days of childhood long since faded off into the mist of adulthood oblivion. Today was that day. 
How dreamy the moment is to lie on this bed of pine needles. The minute my head sank into their cushiony depths, the scent of pine wafted up and became an aroma that not only could put one almost to sleep but teased the nostrils with the tantalizing scent of nature at its purest. A pine thicket has a smell all its own. And oh the sounds one will hear here, as the trees blow gently in the wind, allowing the trunks to sing their own melody. Nature's violin. I've always loved to stop to listen as the trees cross trunks and branches to make their own stanza to the bow and the break of the breeze. This is a dreamy place. To lie on one's back and look up through the swaying canopy of green, the blue of the sky transforms into an image of topaz mixing with emeralds! Maybe I'm a hair on the dramatic side but this is the way my mind sees nature in all her glory. 
The soul is not the only thing that will find shelter in such a place. If you sit quietly, and long enough, you will see others who find solace in the shelter of the pine thicket. Deer are in abundance here. Some resting, some munching on a patch of grass here and there and some simply meandering about with their fellow deermates. In the trees one can hear the call of the red-bellied woodpeckers. Shortly one will begin to hear the persistent sound of beak on wood as the red-belly searches out her lunch.
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