Part 6 of 18: Red and Henry

1/14/09…Imagine how cold ice is. If you touch it and let your finger linger there, you soon feel a stinging numbing pain. Such is tonight as Bob, his wife Kristi, his daughters Ally and Kayla, and me, their adopted brother, drive towards downtown Jackson. Temperatures will be dipping into the teens tonight. We are not sure of our destination, only that we want to be an avenue for God to use as He sees fit because out in the street there are no accolades, only a chilling reminder of how blessed we are, I am. After a few turns, we find the highway overpass Bob’s former policeman friend Keith told him about. Here under interstate I-20 live Red and Henry; yes they have lived here for the last 3-4 years. I am unable to fathom how they live here under the noise created by 18 wheelers speeding over their heads all night long. It is already dark out when we park our truck at the bottom of their concrete home. Bob gets out and shines his flashlight into the lurking concrete darkness and starts yelling above the traffic noise, “Hey anybody up there!! We have some blankets, jackets, things to keep you warm!! Anybody there!! In a few seconds we look up and we see the shadows of two men emerge faintly in the moonlit night, looking like something out of a horror show, seriously. It seems a little surreal. The funny thing is, the more homeless people I meet, the more taken aback I am at their gentle heart and humility, not at the horror show that some portray them to be.

Red and Henry carefully make their way down the slanted concrete to the bottom where we are standing. In love, we hand them some hamburgers, water, and plenty of warm blankets and clothing. They ask for candles, something of which I do not understand until afterwards; candles burn a lot longer than wood or paper or debris and it offers some light and a little bit of warmth for their hands. Hmmm…the fact is the longer I am involved in street ministry, the more I am learning the special needs of those who call concrete home. We say goodbyes and I utter a “God Bless” and a “Take Care,” but I am immediately struck by how ridiculous these words may sound as I utter them, especially as they hike back up the steep concrete embankment and disappear into the dark shadows. In the bitter cold of night, my breath visibly appears in the air. I along with Bob hurriedly climb back into the warmth of the truck. My thoughts are anything but peaceful. Instead they are jumbled.