God Speaks Through Other People

I had almost completed a blog post for the day, when suddenly, the topic rightfully changed from one of wallowing pity, to that of faith and hope.

I am my own worse critic, especially when it's a radical life changing event. I questioned my decision in driving out here to Texas, try and find work, and be a part of my children's daily lives. Maybe this was not the right time. Is this God's will for me? Maybe I wasn't quiet enough when I though God was speaking. I should be living my life. I've proved my point already. Urban camping is just too hard. Maybe I'm crazy. I received a note, from a friend today, and this is what it said:

"I was thinking about our conversation the other night, I think this is the time in your life that you are supposed to have faith in what you are doing is right. Remember it's on God schedule not yours...and when it seems that you are going to break, he will bring you through this somehow some way....I am praying for you."

Knowing what went into "Our Conversation the other night", understanding where this person was coming from, I can only say, this was totally God speaking through other people. It's reaffirming when someone gives advice that is totally selfless, with love. A message that cuts through all the noise, and gets right down to good honest Godly direction.

Camping in the City

Camping doesn't necessarily have to be out in the woods somewhere, with some imagination, some might call homeless, but I refer to as, "Urban Camping." I'm thinking at this point in putting together a guide, maybe call it "Urban Camping on a Shoe String". Where to shower, get something to eat, the best places to use a clean restroom, etc etc etc. Im going start giving this some thought. I need to focus on a paticular topic for my next project, and what better than something I've intimately been a part.

The Road - El Camino

The English translation of El Camino, is "The Road," something at this point, I have become all too familiar. I've been out on the Highway, at night now for five days now, with no end in sight.

My stay at the El Camino Motel, will always remind me of a time that I will want to never have to revisit. Room 15 was by far, the most disgusting place I've ever stayed. I opened the door, and the overpowering odor of countless old cigarettes, filled my nose. The dark green carpet is full of wear marks, large black stains. I can feel my feet sticking to it as I walk across the floor. The walls are painted institutional green, a single mirror is mounted to the wall, a ripped office chair leans back, underneath. The headboard of the bed is bolted to the wall, in the upper left hand corner, a large brown stain, is that blood? Peering into the tiny bathroom, a pink tiled bath has a shower head encrusted in ages old mineral salts. I've stayed in better places in third world countries, by far.

By midnight, I am convinced that my chances would have been better out on the road. The constant traffic to the two rooms next door is prostitution or drug trafficking,  or all I can figure. Every car that pulls in, soon leaves, never to return. Somewhere around 3:30am, there are screams outside in the parking lot, a bang against the wall, then silence.  Twenty minutes later, red and blue flashing lights play across the ceiling, I roll over and at first cover my head with the pillow, toss it aside in disgust, one can only wonder where it has been. I cant breath, allergies run rampant.

The Sun is up; I thank God. Before I hit the floor and go shower, I put on my flip flops, I'm wearing them as long as I touch this floor as well as in the shower and will put on shoes, once I'm in the car.

In Church, I thank God for keeping me safe last night in El Camino, another night on, "The Road".