It happened. I freely admit it. I lost track of days, time and cities. Last night (really it was early this morning) I blogged or facebooked that I was in Memphis. Nope. I was in Little Rock, Arkansas. This was discovered when I read the sticker on the back of our hotel room door this morning. Obviously, this has happened to other travelers, or else the city name would not be prominently displayed before we wander outside. Could you imagine thinking you are in one town and asking for a taxi to take you to XYZ street and ending up in another town with a $200 fare? Not pretty. Much better to have the city on the door. Its like having your name embroidered on your company shirt. In case you wander off the job and forget where you belong.
It is much easier to forget where you are than you might think, especially when you stay at the same hotel chain. The rooms look alike. They even have the same art prints hanging in the rooms. The same furnishings. The only distinguishing characteristics are the bed coverings and curtains and bed skirts. Different colors. Same style. I bet touring musicians have this problem, too. The cities all look alike with the same stores and chain restaurants. The people look alike. But the "flavor" and spirit of the places vary.
So my apologies to those followers I may have confused. It was me. The cities are blending together into a conglomerate of oozy details, a blended ball of blur. I am not alone. It is happening to all of us. It only happened to me later than everyone else.
Today was another drive day. Our second encounter of the morning came at the gas station in Little Rock, Arkansas. A beautiful woman drove up in a huge white GMC Denali. She spoke to me and we began a conversation which ended with me praying for her and her son.
Still image captured from the dash cam. Not too creepy I hope.
She friended us on Facebook and promised to pray for us for the remainder of our trip. She went into her SUV and gave us a copy of a preaching CD from First Pentecost Church, which we happened to drive past going out of the city minutes later.
We listened to the music on it,"Its Only the Beginning," and heard the preacher talk about "Continuation of Going Forward." Very timely. And what a blessing to us. I got goosebumps listening to the music and the teaching. Thank you, Liz.
We also blessed our breakfast waitress earlier.
At first we drove through beautiful mountains and hill country which made way to flat land and rice fields. This was a surprise. Arkansas has a $1 billion dollar rice industry. Its their number 2 commodity. I was equally excited to see wild asparagus growing alongside the road with elder bushes and even what appeared to be naturalized wheat.
We pulled into downtown Memphis this afternoon and explored on foot. We are staying on Main Street across from the city park area and several blocks from Beale. Beale Street is the tourist attraction with the names of famous musicians memorialized in the sidewalk. Kinda like Hollywood and the stars idea. Only in Memphis its Country or Blues legends, Elvis or Jerry Lee Lewis' names in musical notes.
We met a young black man there who is missing his legs, actually only having a torso, sitting in a wheelchair near Starbucks.
His urine bag shared his seat with him, an empty bottle across his lap, a change cup in his hand.His story was heart wrenching. He lost his mom at age 15. Grandmother took care of him for awhile after his mom died. Then she died. His aunts and relatives in Memphis and Florida do not care for him or look out for him. He is homeless now.
He was shot 8 times and lived. One bullet went in his eye and he still sees. His eyes were tender and strong but they bore an ache that exposed his soul when I squatted to be able to look him in the eye at his level.We prayed for him. Gave him money. I saw a vision of blue skies over him and heard the lyrics from an oldie folk song I can only remember the phrase sung in harmony, "Blue skiiiiieeess." I could not find the song on You Tube for reference.
We encouraged him. Then a man who represented himself as a street minister to the homeless came over to us. He had a tall, thin build. He asked for donations to house the homeless, as he pulled a wallet out with unopened tracts in it that also exposed a few ones and a five. I could see the look of pain grow stronger on the other man's face. The fast talking thin man described different attractions there and told us 'Bucky' was a good guy and the pastor was working on a place for him out of the shelter, he put in the paperwork, he is on a waiting list. As he came closer to take group pictures, Lesa noticed his breathe smelled of alcohol. Not that alcohol on a minister's breath indicates anything bad or intrinsically wrong. But in this instance, we felt "slimed." I hope that fake minister doesn't call the man Bucky because he attracts more money on the street. I hope that the fake minister does not steal from him or threaten to. What could he do about it if so? We hurried back over to where he sat to make sure he was OK and not in any danger but by the time we got there, he had already moved on to somewhere else. Hopefully to go get some dinner.To get away from that other guy.
The flavor of Memphis? Not so sweet. I felt watched, almost hunted while there. I did not like Beale Street. Main Street felt OK. It was more of a residential area and regular commercial district, with stores, restaurants, and 5000 people housed in upscale apartments.
French Quarter, New Orleans was better. At least the sin there was on the surface of the city. We saw the sin of Memphis was creepy, sneaky below it. We did not much feel the desire to eat on Beale Street after that encounter with the fake minister. But we all cried real tears over the legless man who sleeps in his chair near Starbucks so in case anything happens to him, the cameras will pick it up and justice can be served.During dinner tonight we wrote out all the names of each person our lives impacted and intersected along the way so we would not forget them.
So we could pray for them each again, and to sort out the details from each city where God took us to bless His people, love them as they are, and encourage them. Including Ms. Ann, who wasn't our waitress tonight but who made us feel part of her friendly world. We ended up prophesying over her and blessing her and she gave us all hugs and let us take pictures.
She said she used to carry a cross on her clipboard. I said she carries the cross on her face, it shines.
You can't hide Jesus when you have peace and joy. He pokes out and shines through. No emblems are needed, no religious slogans. It is all there, in you, shining through. Like from Ms. Ann. Like from many of the other people we have encountered along the way, from Cary to Memphis.
