Where it all began…

It’s been 7 years since I made any posts or wrote anything for social media or the web. The site was once deleted and everything within gone forever. This will be no more as I believe it is the duty of every Christian to spread the Gospel in whatever way that God has given them, and this is mine. Before I go more boldly than before, I owe it to many to give a back story. I owe it to myself as well. I mentioned a few weeks ago to friends and family that I had been drawn into prayer much more than usual. There has been a familiar tug within me, calling me to something greater. The problem is that I kept asking myself, and God; Who am I? Why Me?….Throughout the next couple of days, a lot came flooding back in what you will read below. It is long but I hope you will stay with me. I almost considered writing a book; who knows, one day maybe. For now, we’ll start here and get vulnerable with any of you who might read along…..

I’ll preface this with an important point; nothing in this is finite. It is not the end all/be all as about any homeless person or the life of anyone, Christian or not. This is simply a story of my own personal journey into a world that I had never experienced. A journey that changed me in profound ways.

Who am I, you might ask? I’m just a nobody in this world. I’m not a pastor. I’m not even the best Christian. I’m human and struggle with a life of being worldly vs Christian. I think many of us feel the same and too few discuss those feelings with anyone.

I am a photographer by trade. Weddings have always been my focus and this means capturing images and memories of beautiful couples in the happiest moments of their lives. When photographing couples, any good photographer attempts to find the best locations to do so and one of my favorites was a local park in the City of Houston. I spent a lot of time there with numerous couples and, over time, I kept noticing the same people.

There was a homeless community within this park that kept to themselves. They were always there, though barely seen. I always made a point to say hello as we passed and went on my way with my job. The couples I worked with never seemed to notice.

One of the last couples that I took to this particular park created a lasting memory for me. I do not fault them or hold any blame whatsoever, as the world has taught many of us to be callous without us even realizing it.

As we walked to one of my favorite locations for a few portraits, this group of people was there. They sat on the nearby benches, discussing among each other, looked up, and gave us a smile. The couple I was with immediately froze. They looked at me as if I were leading them into danger, so I kindly turned them and walked away. When the session was completed, I sent them on their way and, usually, this meant that I departed as well. This time, however, I walked back to meet the gentlemen we had encountered.

From the start, they were kind, and welcoming. I introduced myself and the very first comments were of their recognition of the fear that my clients had of them. We sat and talked for over an hour before I finally departed.

Without realizing it at the time; that day had a profound effect on me. 

Over the coming days, weeks, and months, I found myself diving into Scripture. This is something I had never really done in my life. I was raised Christian, Catholic to be exact. I was taught to believe what we learned in church, in Sunday school, in confirmation classes, but never truly taught or led to read or understand the Bible on my own. 

I always called myself a believer, a Christian. When I look back now, I know that this was not always completely true (or maybe I was just a child in my faith). I began to do a lot of praying and a lot of reading. I asked God to guide me as I could feel something, or someone, pulling me. It was this tug, in my gut, in my soul, and it would not let go. 

A few weeks passed by with something telling me daily to go back to the park, so; one day I drove back to the city, stopped at a local McDonalds and picked up 25 cheeseburgers, and went to find the people I had met on the previous visit. They sat in the same place as I last left them and looked at me bewilderingly as I walked up with a big cardboard box full of burgers. We sat there for a few hours, eating and talking. They had seen me long before I had ever seen them and talked about the numerous couples I had brought there. It was a small group of wildly differing personalities that just fit so well together.

Some were friendly from the start. Others kept their distance. A couple seemed to have a disdain for my presence. It remained this way for some time. I went back to visit weekly, then a few days a week, then almost daily at times. Sometimes I brought food, others I came empty handed and just visited. Days turned to weeks, then to months, ultimately to a couple of years visiting this same group. Some had been there for a couple of years, others as long as twenty-five or more.

I began learning from this group pretty quickly. Just like in the world that we all live in; none of us are the same. Our wants and needs differ at most times. Theirs do as well, while being similar at the same time. Our personalities are a gift from God and ours alone. Thank God we do differ from one another in that way or the world would be a pretty boring place. Navigating those personalities in such a raw arena was a learning experience in its very own. 

There were men and women who ended up in this place by way of family issues, by divorce, abuse, drug use, alcoholism, and criminal behavior that ultimately landed them there upon being released from jail. None of them were bad people, they came from bad circumstances, and they took care of each other out there.

The first gentleman that I spoke with the most went by the name of Holly. I spoke with him the most because he spoke the most. He stole the show. He went by the term of ‘Mayor’ in the park; albeit self-titled. As we got to know each other, we discussed his needs with each visit. He wanted out. He wanted a roof. He was sixty-something years old and was tired of being outside. 

Holly was a learning experience for me. I was new out there. I trusted from the beginning. He didn’t have any forms of identification so I researched and found that was easy to obtain. I picked him up a week later, stood in a few long lines, and we had an ID coming to him in a matter of days. Then housing. How does that happen? I knew there were programs with some of the larger homeless service non-profits; so I researched some more. Ultimately, within only a matter of weeks, we had his name on a list. While there was a lot of footwork; it was much simpler than expected. 

What I did not expect were the calls I got after all of this took place. The errors on forms, the apparent mistruths. It seemed that I had been used, more for attention than anything else. This upset me but did not bring me down. Through this process I had already learned so much about the ‘system’, to the point of sitting in a board room of one of the largest foundations in the city. I was able to see how the system worked, as well as how it did not. It was an eye-opening experience that helped me much along the way.

Once my attention was not so much solely upon Holly, I finally got the chance to get to know the others in this group. The first could inspire a book of its very own, however, I will go into the heart of it instead.

One thing that took a while to learn was how trust works on the streets. When and if you meet a person living in these conditions, I can almost guarantee that very few will ever give you their real name. 

Why would they?

We have all had times of torment in our lives, different levels for different people. One thing that we all do is simple; we build walls. We place a security fence around ourselves, around our hearts and feelings so that no one else can hurt us. Why should it be any different for those living outside. It took the best part of a year to learn the real names of a few of these gentlemen I spent so much time with.

The reason for this was trust, or a lack thereof. One way or another, these people had been let down along the way. Many times that played a large role in what landed them in the position where they sat. From the time they became homeless and ended up in this park, they had many others come in and out of their lives. Some brought a prayer. Some brought a meal. Some brought toiletries. Few took the time to know them or open themselves up to them. Not many returned.

‘Doc’ was one of these people. He was an alcoholic in the worst sense and admitted it freely. He knew what led him to where he was and had no issue telling you. He was a self-proclaimed grifter and would shoplift at any local store he could, primarily for Listerine, for the alcohol content. He smelled of mouthwash on most days.

Doc adored my wife and son, as I brought them out often. His smile beamed when we walked up, as long as it was a ‘good day’. I spent much time visiting with and getting to know this man. Doc was the in person version of what many people would envision while thinking of a homeless man. He was filthy. His jeans had holes. His shoes had holes. He often had a dirty flannel shirt on over a dirty t-shirt. He had long shabby dirty blond hair with a shabby beard. He smelled, all the time, with a hint of mouthwash mixed in. 

Beyond all of that, he was a character; albeit crude at many times. Once you got past that outer shell, he was one of the most genuinely kind people I had ever met. Doc had no problem telling his story and acknowledging his own issues. He had simply succumbed to them. 

Doc was raised a pastor’s son. He was, very literally, raised in church. As he stated; ‘it was a bible bashing, hallelujah, praise singing family.’ Ultimately, that was part of what led him here, as he saw all of what happened in the church and within his family. His father was an alcoholic as well. He abused his wife at times, ultimately had an affair and divorced. That was the beginning of the crisis for Doc as everything he was taught to believe was then being questioned. 

So Doc did what he had been taught to do….He began drinking.

That downhill slide separated him from his parents, siblings, family, ultimately leading him to the streets. One day, finally, he ended up in this park. He stated often that he would probably die there one day. When he was down, he was really down and it got to a point that I stopped taking my family for their own safety on many occasions.

My time with Doc was the beginning of the true growth of my own faith and relationship with God. I was now reading Scripture daily. I prayed for and with this man often. Months into our relationship, he gave me his real name, and a lot more of his story. He gave me his siblings contact information as we slowly tried to make contact. The bridges had been burned to the point that they wanted none. Regardless, I knew I had to give this person love and I did the best I could in that time.

There was a week when I had not had the chance to visit due to work and family life, but I was having dreams. Something in the night was telling me that Doc was in trouble. That same feeling intruded to my days as well. My gut was telling me the same. So, early one Sunday morning I headed out, something I never did, and went straight to the park. I asked a few of the guys where he was and no one had seen him, he hadn’t slept there the night before. I immediately went back to my car and prayed. I asked God to help me find him. 

When I left the park it was as if I was being told where to go so I just drove. Two miles up the road, there he was, stumbling down the sidewalk in the same direction I was going. I honked my horn, pulled up beside him and stopped my vehicle while he just looked at me with the most questioning eyes I had ever seen. 

I rolled down the window and told him to get in the car. Once he did, he sat in silence, simply staring at me, aghast. He asked me; ‘Jason, what are you doing here?’ He said again; ‘No Jason, how did you get here now of all times and places? We pulled off the main road and he broke down. He sat and cried violently; I cried with him. 

Doc told me that he had made the decision that the next vehicle that came down that road, he was going to jump in front of it and die. How was that next vehicle mine? I simply told him that this is how God works and that He, nor I, are finished with him yet. There were many more tears, there were hugs, and I brought him back to the park among friends. We told the story of what happened so that the others could help prop this man up for a while. 

That moment floored me for a long time to come. There is no other answer to the question of how I got there that day, at that time. I was led. Even then I asked; Why me? I wasn’t ready for or wanting those kinds of responsibilities. On the other hand was amazement. That was the very literal hand of God leading to rescue this man at that very moment, which led to others as well. 

I often hinted to Doc about a program that we could get him into if he were willing. It was not your regular detox and go as many can be. This was a true program for people in a position such as his. I called and then visited with Cenikor about him to see what that journey entailed and found they would accept him if he came. So the hints and gentle shoves kept happening over time; he just wasn’t ready.

Then another early weekend morning came and another moment of being called to head down early. It was winter and one of the hardest freezes of the year. There was ice on every highway and overpass on the drive there. When I arrived at the park, and went to the usual place, the sight was frightening.

The previous night, Doc had a bit too much to drink, as usual. He went to sleep on the retaining wall of a small pool that they often gathered around. At some point in the night, he fell in. He made his way out, threw his sleeping bag on the ground, crawled in and went to sleep, or passed out, in his drenched clothing.

When I walked up, Doc was laying in his sleeping bag…Frozen. His hair and beard were, very literally, icicles. His clothing was frozen solid. There was a sheet of ice around him on the ground from the water that came from his clothing when he laid down. What was more amazing? It took a bit to wake him up, but he was alive. Hungover and freezing, but alive. I walked him to the local bathroom so he could change clothing, then to my vehicle to warm up, all with another long talk about how I ended up there when I did. 

Doc took a few days to think about things and agreed that it was time for him to make a change. I began to make a few calls and found a local Detox center that would have a bed open in two to three days. I must admit that when the day came, it was one of the most inspiring and heart-wrenching trips all at the same time.

During intake, I sat and listened as the head doctor asked all of the standard questions and made some small talk with Doc. At some point in the middle of it all, he stopped and looked at me while asking Doc; ‘and who is this guy?’ 

Doc said; ‘Well…he’s my advocate, my friend, my brother, the one who has stayed beside me on this journey.’ After talking for a short time, the doctor took a pause while looking at me again and stated; ‘Wait, I know you, and Craig (Doc’s real name) you don’t know how lucky you are. No one that comes in here has someone like this man at their side.’ The doctor went on to say to me; ‘I know who you are Jason and I have something for you, I put this on the wall years ago and I think it will suit you well.’

What he had placed on the wall was a poem. Many of you may have seen it before; I never had. He brought me over to where it was, pointed it out, and walked back into his office with Craig (Doc). The day was already an emotional one and I had to stay and dry the tears after reading this:

THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

He was a friend to man, and he lived

In a house by the side of the road -- Homer

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn

In the place of their self-content;

There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,

In a fellowless firmament;

There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths

Where highways never ran --

But let me live by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,

Where the race of men go by --

The men who are good and the men who are bad,

As good and as bad as I.

I would not sit in the scorner's seat,

Or hurl the cynic's ban --

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,

By the side of the highway of life,

The men who press with the ardor of hope,

The men who are faint with the strife.

But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,

Both parts of an infinite plan --

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead

And mountains of wearisome height;

That the road passes on through the long afternoon

And stretches away to the night.

But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,

And weep with the strangers that moan,

Nor live in my house by the side of the road

Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road --

It's here the race of men go by.

They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,

Wise, foolish -- so am I;

Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,

Or hurl the cynic's ban?

Let me live in my house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

I don’t remember that doctor’s name and never found out how he knew mine. I do remember crying for most of the way home from that trip. With everything set in place from that day, the very same day that he left detox, he would go into a two  year rehabilitation program that would not only help to heal his disease, but introduce him to a world of support, the security of living with a job, and people who truly care. A man with nothing owned and nothing to lose was able to take the steps in a matter of days that most await for weeks, months, or years. God was working still.

Jumping ahead in Doc’s story…He never made it through the program. He was halfway there, a year in, and washed out. He called me one day asking if I would pick him up and I almost hesitated to do so. Alas, I could not leave him on his own. While I was upset with him, I understood as well, and had to let him know that he was still loved. I found him walking down the side of the road, once again. We drove back to the park, back to the guys he held close for the last few years. He stated that he couldn’t stay there and fall back in with the same demons. A few days later I received a call from him; he was in Austin and said he’d heard they had better services there and needed a change. I never heard from him again and still wonder daily how he is doing.

I was upset for a short moment, but also reminded. One sows and another reaps. There was another gentleman in a similar scenario that can relate to that phrase. His name was John and he too was an alcoholic. John kept to himself at most times. He stayed with the group but had little to say. He was kind and had a genuine smile. I had hinted to him at one point that we could do the same for him as we did for Doc but he was nowhere near ready for that. John was not as far gone as Doc was but still had to work through his own issues. I simply offered friendship and a big hug each time I visited. 

One day, not long before Doc left Cenikor, John approached me at the park and pulled me to the side. He had but one thing to say; ‘I’m ready.’ I asked what he meant and he explained that he was ready to get out of his funk and get back to life. He wanted to go to the facility that Doc went to. I was amazed! 

Phone calls were made, paperwork submitted, and once again, in less than a week, he was approved. These things were just not normal but kept happening. 

When we arrived at Cenikor, the first step was the tour and speeches with all of the expectations. The tour guide was none other than Doc! He was still doing well in the program at this point. Once admitted, you don’t hear from them for a long while. There isn’t much contact with the outside in order to avoid sources that could cause a relapse. So I didn’t hear from John for close to a year, when they allowed me to visit at Christmas. When it was time to leave, he handed me a letter that read as follows:

“I honestly can’t believe that it took me as long as it did to make a decision to do something better in my life. If you and your family had not come along and into my life, I doubt I could have ever made that decision. Jason, you and your wife and child are the greatest blessing that I have ever had in my life and I thank you and God for that every day. Please keep doing what you’re doing with the others out there as well. I know you dream of more people doing the same things that you are and I know you have struggled with this but you don’t know how much you have touched the hearts of everyone you have met out there. Keep going and I will be praying for more for you too.”

That is only an excerpt from the letter but it was profound. He went on to explain a bit about Doc having troubles but that he would not be leaving there until they kicked him out. He could see the light ahead and would keep making progress towards it.

Now John, again, was someone that we really did nothing for but show him love each and every time we saw him. Ultimately, he, on his own, decided to move and alter the course of his life based on witnessing Doc going in and giving it a shot as well. Doc was, very literally, at the bottom of the deep end and sinking in the clay. If he could do this, John could as well. He decided, in one simple moment, to be vulnerable and accept what help we may be able to offer.

This proved one thing above all to me and my family; Simply stopping and getting to know people, to love them, can make such a profound difference in their lives, as well as our own. We are all brothers and sisters with one Father in Heaven and should always act as such.

John is another that I never heard from again. I have faith that he did, indeed, stay on his journey and is living well ten years later in life.

Going back to the beginning of these park visits, there were many others that allowed me into this family as well. The moments spent with these people had an even more profound effect on my life and, ultimately, changed me forever. 

Eli was one of the very first people to introduce himself. He was a fifty-something Filipino man who always had a smile on his face and a hug to be given. He lit up with happiness each time anyone came by to visit him. He never told me his story and I was just happy to be his friend. Eli passed away of complications from diabetes right there in the park a couple of years after meeting him. These are things that always stick with me. How many there must be that simply pass in the night with no-one around who loves them.

Another of the first to introduce himself was a man who went by Toby. Toby was a large man, not in an overweight sense; he was big, imposing, big bodied with large hands. When I visited, he usually watched from a distance with little to say; always sitting with his friend Clyde. Clyde was a bit intimidating as well and never had a word to say to me for a long time.

This goes back to the trust issues I spoke of previously. I didn’t understand it until a later time. All I knew in the beginning was that these guys did not like me very much. 

Toby was much of the reason that I never gave up on Doc, but we’ll go more into that a bit later. In the beginning, and for the first few months, he would be cordial, shake your hand, say hello, and was always grateful for a meal. Slowly but surely he began to tell his own story. 

He had been on the streets for more than a few years. His fault. He knew it. He often said it was his penance, the price he paid for his own actions. Toby spent much of his younger adult life in turmoil, much of it in prison. He did twenty-five years for transporting drugs across state lines. When released, he came back to Texas only to get caught up again for being awol against parole and placed right back in the system. He admitted that he never had a ‘legit’ job and by the time he was free, it was too late. He was a felon on parole. He was a man who burned every bridge with his family and had used them up. He was a man who now resided in a park with nothing to his name other than the clothes on his back.

Now most, upon learning this about a man, would simply walk away. He fit the description of what many give to many homeless persons; someone who simply deserved to be there and brought it upon themselves. There was something about him that drew me in over time. He was a kind soul and a protector. He would not let anything happen to any of those that he called a friend in that park.

I spent more time just sitting and talking with Toby than with any other person out there. He became one of my greatest friends. Once I had established that I was coming to visit regularly, months in to the journey, he waved me over to a bench that he was sitting at alone. Little did I know, this was the beginning of our relationship.

He asked simply, ‘What are you doing here?’ I told him I brought lunch and he should come have a meal with us. He went on to ask, ‘Jason, why are you out here with us?’ I told him the only thing that came to mind; it is what Christ would have me do. He then told me of  the many church groups that come out from time to time. They would form a circle and say a prayer and leave. Some might bring a gift bag sometimes. Some brought meals. None stayed and got to know them. So what was my goal, what do I gain? I explained that my goal WAS to get to know them. He told me that I would only get hurt if I spent too much time out there so I informed him that I would just hang out a little closer to him. He laughed. We ate. Time moved on.

From that day forward we grew closer. At one point he asked if I could bring him a new bible to which I, of course, obliged. This turned into reading together and praying together on different occasions. A relationship built further.

Now through all of this, Toby’s best friend was never far from us. He was always watching but had little to say. Clyde was and is another man that is hard in appearance. Most people would probably not approach solely because of his stare and tattoos. Mostly he was just a man in thought, watching his surroundings.

The first time Clyde said more than hello to me was the first day that I truly realized that evil is real, Satan is real, he lives right here among us.

Houston had just gone through one of our Spring periods of torrential rain. The city was flooded for a couple of days so I was not able to get to the park to visit. Once the water was subsiding, I decided to take a night drive to check on the guys. I had not visited at this time in the past as it is a different environment as the night progresses. It was still raining lightly and there were few areas that didn’t have standing water so the guys were easy to find. Toby, Clyde and Holly were sitting on a bench near the entry to the park. I came with a small bottle of whiskey, don’t judge, as I knew they would be wet and cold.

They were surprised to see me at this time for sure but happy about the little gift. It was for them, I was having none of it. Clyde of all people took the bottle and told me I had to have a drink with them. It wasn’t polite to bring it and not join in. We talked for a while about how miserable it had been out there when one of the scariest and craziest moments of my life happened.

There was a man approaching us down the walkway loudly and pointing at me. I asked Toby if they knew him and all of them said they’d never seen him before. This man was screaming loudly, ‘I know you and I know what you’re doing here.’ He then went on with, ‘You don’t belong here! This park is mine! I am of the devil and this park is mine with everyone in it!’

Clyde looked at me and said, ‘This is for real man’. This man had a knife, swinging it around and pointing it directly at me, stating the same claims over and over and telling me to leave. The strangest thing is, I never really feared him. I stopped him and stated that this park was not his, was no longer his, and that I was there in the name of Jesus and he had to leave….and he did. He walked right back the way he came.

Was this a demon? Was he a possessed man? Was he simply a man who had taken too much of something a bit before then? Those are questions to which I will never have an answer. Was he evil? Undoubtedly, yes. From that evening on, however, Clyde became a friend as well.

Over the course of the next months, I worked with Toby. We got him his IDs. I took him in to one of the Houston organizations to have a vulnerability assessment; this was the first step in qualifying for housing. He was determined to be middle of the pack in the most vulnerable of chronic homeless in the city. I sat through numerous meetings with him and people in the ‘system’ to determine his chances at housing. Based on his assessment, those chances were extremely low. 

During all of this time, Toby had to visit his parole officer weekly and he made very visit. The reason he had to go weekly and was ultimately harassed was because he had no address. He actually stood a chance of going back to prison due only to being homeless. Toby had changed in tremendous ways. He was doing the best that he knew how to do for himself and for those around him that he called his family. He struggled daily with this as he knew he could get right back in to the criminal element and make money. He knew how to do it, had opportunities, and chose not to.  The man had changed, and still was changing.

We never stopped battling in attempt to find help with more letters and petitions throughout the Summer. Finally, I had another meeting scheduled for him with one of the organizations over housing. All he had to do was show up at 9:00. This was in the Fall and one of the first stronger cold fronts came through on the day prior with a lot of overnight rain. I received a call around mid-day that Toby did not make his meeting. I was a bit shocked and a lot angry. I imagined that he was giving up after so many denials and let-downs. When I finally reached him that afternoon, he told me he had been under the weather and went to the hospital to get checked out; he felt like he had a bad case of the flu. The following Monday he called me and asked if I could take him back to the doctor. They had called and stated they wanted to do some x-rays of his chest.

I drove down and took him in that morning. I was surprised out how little the wait was when they took him back but they asked that we wait for the results in the waiting room afterwards. So we waited, and waited some more. We sat and discussed a lot, but mostly that he was tired of feeling sick so often. When they finally called us back for the results, there began a whirlwind of emotions from both of us.

There was a mass in the upper quadrant of his lung.

There was not much else said, other than a referral to a cancer center and the name of a doctor for him to see. The appointment had already been scheduled on his behalf and we could see him the next morning. Those couple of days turned into weeks when a biopsy was finally scheduled. Days later and another visit and the news came:

POSITIVE FOR MALIGNANCY: Non-small cell carcinoma.

I held Johns hand in the first time I saw this mountain of a man shed a tear. The doctor was pleasant and honest, however none of the news was good. They could do treatment; chemotherapy and radiation. With those he should expect 12-18 months. Without, they said it would be no more than 6 months. This was in November of 2013.

The gears shifted at this point. There was no more searching for housing but I could not allow this man to die in this park that he lived in. Toby was another mainstay in the park and no-one took the news well. Toby had been in touch with his sister over the past year as I had been pushing him to get in touch with family. He had not seen his children in years and had grandchildren he had never met. 

Toby and I had many long discussions about whether or not he would go be with family, if he could. He was adamant, at first, that he would do no such thing and be a further burden than he had already been to them. He told me to just let him go and the world would move on fine without him. He knew I would do no such thing.

It was already mid-November, a month till Christmas, with so much to do and the holidays approaching. Toby’s sister and her husband had already agreed that he could come to them. The question was, How? Toby was still on parole and I knew absolutely nothing about how any of this worked. 

So for the next meeting with his parole officer, I came along with him. I had to fill out forms. I was questioned. I was not permitted, at first, to join their meeting, and I raised my voice a bit. Ultimately I was let in the room to meet the lady in charge of his case.

We discussed Toby’s progress and behavior in the park. We discussed our search for housing. She was basically verifying everything she had been told by him over the past 2 years where I was involved. The we discussed his diagnosis. I explained to her that we had a chance to get him home with family that we needed to take. She explained that he could get help here and travel would not be permitted. Since they knew that he was homeless, there was too much of a risk that he would not return, and he had busted parole in the past. I argued with her in the office and she brought in a supervisor who quickly informed me that if I take this any further, I could end up in prison as well.

When we left the parole office there was not much to be said; only that we would figure something out. I knew I could reach out to local representatives and the Governors office, and I did. It was less than 2 weeks until Christmas, though and I knew that would go nowhere. 

I prayed. A lot. I know my family and friends did as well. Those closest to me, especially family, stepped in and helped in any way that they could and, finally, I get a call. Toby was granted a two-week permit to leave the state. Ultimately, on December 24th, 2013, we drove Toby to the airport and put him on a plane to Oklahoma. 

His sister was excited to see finally see him and devastated at the news of his health at the same time.Her husband was wonderful and supporting through it all as well. They provided an extra room, a bed, the comforts of home, AC & Heat, regular meals, but most of all…..Love. All things that he had not experienced in a long, long time.

The fight was still long from over. TDCJ still required that Toby come home in two weeks. That was something that I ha no idea how to fix. In the meantime, Toby was home with family, some that he had never even had the chance to meet. 

Christmas came and went and those two weeks went by as if they were a day. During this time, Toby’s health was declining some, and my phone was ringing. Days before the deadline, his parole officer was calling daily. Where was he? When is he scheduled to come back? Am I aware of the ramifications if he does not?

In the meantime, Toby’s family found him a doctor there at the local university hospital. He was receiving great care and a lot of love. I was currently being informed that I could be charged with aiding and abetting a felon on parole fleeing across state lines. These conversations and threats went on until Toby was admitted to the hospital with Pneumonia. Recent tests had also shown that the cancer had spread faster, and faster than imagined. He had a second tumor that was wrapped around his trachea. It had spread through his lymph nodes to his spine as well. 

Around the very same time he was admitted, His parole officer showed up at the door of my home. She was not happy as I explained there was no way to get him home at that time and in order to do so, a medical transport would be required from Oklahoma. Would this really be cost effective to the State of Texas to do so? She took a report and explained they would be calling me into their office soon.

Then, the next little miracle happened. The phone rang and said we had a two week extension. Two weeks to get him home or I would face charges. I was reminded of this daily with a phone call. All I could do was pray for an answer and for Toby (as well as my worried wife who was beside herself with stress as well).

January 22, 2014 was the deadline. This was the day that Toby had to be in his parole officers office.

January 21st was the last time that I spoke with Toby. We had a short but heartfelt talk about our love for one another. He spoke of his love for Jesus and thanked me for the journey with him and we said our goodbyes. I did believe, at that time, that we would speak again.

January 22nd, the deadline, was the day his sister called me to say that Toby passed away.

* * *

Now all of this happened prior to the stories of Doc & John. The last thing Toby told me in our final conversation was this:

‘Jason, I know this hurts you. I know you wanted more for me and I wanted to help you more as well. I’ll be seeing Jesus soon and I’ll be fine. You keep doing what you’re doing. You have to. There are more that need help and if anyone deserves it, it’s Doc. Please do what you can for him because God knows he needs it.’ 

There was still a battle to win on his side as well. He was supposed to be back in Houston and the Parole office did not find it easy to believe that he had passed away on the actual date that he was supposed to return. They were building a case against me which, luckily, went away with the production of a death certificate.

In the last few weeks before his going to Oklahoma, each and every time I saw him he asked to come sit in the car and listen to a song. One song. Every time. It is from Tenth Avenue North, called ‘Worn.’ If you haven’t heard it, go listen to it. How many of us have felt those lyrics at some point in their lives. He said it was written for him. My eyes fill with tears each time I hear it to this day. They’re happy tears though as I know he is so much happier in the arms of Christ now.

* * *

Toby’s passing took its toll on those who remained at the park. There were many instances of progress that was gained being completely reversed. It was no time to give up, however. There were still more there and, remember; Toby’s story came before Doc & John. 

It didn’t take long after Toby passed for Clyde, his best friend, to find his way home to his fiancé’s family. Yes, fiancé; life out here had many layers. 

Another of the original group, Richard, passed away not long after Toby; also due to cancer. He was a man, who on a freezing cold morning gave my wife his one clean beanie and would not take no for an answer. 

Throughout the time with Doc & John, another man named Les, who also had a problem with alcohol, found his way into housing and off of the streets. There was inspiration abound in this small circle of souls by seeing one or two find ways to change. 

Ultimately, after Toby’s passing, Doc leaving town, and John making great progress in his program; things began to change at the park. A few of those left fell deeper into where they were when I first found them, worse off than before. This was another moment that hurt to my core at the time. Now I look back and realize; they weren’t ready yet. Maybe they became so, or maybe they did not. In any case, they were all a blessing in my life and I hope to have been in theirs as well.

One of the most important lessons I learned on this journey started while sitting in a boardroom. Somehow I had managed to get a meeting with leaders of one of the top homeless service organizations in Houston. There had been some pretty amazing things happening for a few people in that park and this was my chance to discuss how it was happening, my vision, and my goals.

At that time I had big dreams. I truly thought I might be on the precipice of starting something bigger and tried at every turn. It also seemed that around every turn, God was waiting for me and saying to slow down.

Many of the people I met and called family would never have gone into the ‘system’. They feared it. They had no respect for it. They hated it. They refused to be a ‘number’, as many of them stated. The only way that ever happened was by befriending them, personally. 

So when I explained to those in that boardroom what my personal experiences were and about going into their world and building trust, I was hoping to find ways to get more to do the same…

Instead, what I received was anger. I was told that I should not and could not do this and one should never ask others to. It’s dangerous! ‘That is what we are here for’, was the final response. 

That day was eye opening and angering. 

Ultimately, it was that conversation with Toby when he asked why I was doing any of this, that stays with me the most. During that discussion, he spoke of the many, many people that come out to help, but never get to know them and I then explained what I had learned so far:

With all of the time I had spent out there, no true good could be done unless we got to know each other. We all live in our little kingdoms. We build them up around us and keep what we like within the walls. Those walls also keep out anything we don’t like, as best they can. We keep things that hurt at a distance. It was not until I tore down the walls of my kingdom and lived in theirs that I truly understood anything. That meant pain, sorrow, suffering, a broken heart. We have to join them in their little kingdoms and let it break our hearts to understand. When that happens, love happens, action happens. This goes back to the trust spoken of at the beginning and it is the only way to build it. This is not solely for someone who is homeless, it is for every person on earth.

But this defines love, does it not? How can we truly love if we are not vulnerable? If we wish for anyone to trust us with their heart, we must open ours to them as well. This is what God calls us all to do. That is what discipleship is.

The next, and most important, lesson applies to all moments in our lives. Slow down and let God lead. This is no simple task. 

Throughout my time on this journey, my faith grew stronger every day. I saw prayers answered. I saw God working. In all sincerity; I, my family, and others around us witnessed the very power of God. That, still, did not stop me from racing ahead. While I knew great things were happening, I always wanted more.

There was one thing I never really discussed during those days. It was mostly out of fear; what would friends and family think of me? A complete human response when everything that had happened was beyond human capability.

The topic was God’s voice. Does He still speak to us today? Can we hear him? I believe, without a doubt, the answer is a resounding YES. Those times of being led out to find Doc moments before tragedy happened; how could that not have been the guiding hand of God? The greatest example, however was this:

As mentioned, I always wanted more. During those times of being there for those in that park, I was working feverishly on the idea of starting my very own non-profit. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? I had big ideas. I had contacts. At every turn, I hit a wall.

Frustration began to take over. I was getting angry, beginning to believe that nothing was working (meanwhile miracles were happening). I prayed and prayed some more. I yelled at God. I broke down in tears. Then, one night I went to bed and woke shortly after to a voice speaking a simple phrase in the most loving tone; ‘Jason, be still and remember who I am.’

I had no doubt then and have no doubt to this day who’s voice that was. Everything began to fall into perspective after that. This was not about raising money, it was about love, about being a disciple of Christ; Absolutely nothing that we accomplished cost very much as it was; other than time.

A few days after that, I was, of course, questioning everything. I had another photo session with a couple and this one was downtown. I had arrived early and the couple called to inform they were going to the considerably late, so I sat in the car with my usual snacks and a beverage. Directly across from my truck there was a man sitting on a bench. Now I won’t say I knew everyone on the streets at this time, but in certain areas I knew, or had seen, most. This was one of those areas and I had never seen this man before. 

This was an older black man with a cane, wearing shoddy clothes, simply sitting there and smiling at me as I sat in the car. I got out with an extra bag of beef jerky and chips and went and had a seat next to him. I offered him the snacks, which he gratefully accepted, and introduced myself, asking how long he had been out here.

His answer was shocking to me at the time; ‘I’ve been out here forever Jason. I know how you are, I’ve been watching you.’

I told him that I had never seen him before around there and he replied; ‘Just because you don’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not around. I’m just here to tell you that you’re doing good. Keep it up. Keep walking in your faith. You know God will provide the rest. It was very nice meeting you Jason.

He then said he had to get going, got up and gave me a hug, and left. In all of the time spent out there, I never saw this man again and never got his name. 

I’ve thought of this man often. He was another who ‘knew me’, yet we had never met. Who was he? Could this be one the ‘Angels’ that the author of the book of Hebrews mentions in Chapter 13:2?

* * *

The reasons for all of this being written are two-fold. One is for anyone who might possibly read along to maybe find some understanding and peace of their own. Each of our journeys in life and faith are, and will be different. God is, however, the same always and forever.

The second is more for me. In the last months of 2023 I found myself feeling that same familiar tug that I felt so many years ago. I also found myself much deeper in prayer than usual. Have you ever felt you were being called to do something but at a complete loss of what that may be? That has been me.

The moment I put words to this and spoke of it to family and friends on social media, I was taken back. The last 7 years have been focused solely on my family, on health issues, on us and me. Much of what has been written here was honestly forgotten. Over a matter of days, this all came back in a flood. I asked God in those prayers; who am I, why me, and everything similar. I believe this is Him reminding me and this is here now to remind us all that He works wonders through us, if we only let Him. How many of us ask that same question…Why me, or who am I? I can imagine the first disciples that Jesus called asked those same questions in the beginning.

I still don’t know where He is leading me just yet, but I know I am listening and will keep praying. Those prayers are for you as well, that we may all be led by the Spirit to accomplish great things in this world before we join Christ in His Father’s kingdom.

In the meantime, I will be back here at Project Ministries which, for now, is just me sharing the Gospel in the best way that I know how at the present time. In time, I hope you might follow along, invite others. Who knows what we can accomplish in this world if we let ourselves be led by the Spirit of God. 

May the grace of God, though our Lord Jesus Christ be with all of you and may our journey be fruitful.

And to the few from those years that may be reading, that means you Clyde; I still love you all.