Thursdays with Rachel

She says she's always been different, and surely she is.  

We met just a few months ago, following a phone call from her sister asking if we could help out with some furniture; a bed, a dresser, maybe some dishes.  Rachel was a "rescue" from an abusive relationship, and her sister was helping her set up housekeeping in an itsy bitsy, shoebox-sized studio apartment.  We gladly filled the place up.

We have little in common, but share a mutual love for God.  This love is new for Rachel.  She only learned about Jesus last September (until then she just knew that he was "some guy that died on a cross"), and she'd never opened a bible until last December.  I've been "saved" since 1971 and studying the bible for over forty years ~ yet, I learn something new from Rachel every time I visit.

A friendship, of sorts, has begun to take hold between the two of us.  Friendship is two words, she explains, friend and ship.  "Ship means you carry things back and forth to each other."  Ahh.

She has no car, she doesn't work, or have a television.  Her life is uncomplicated, uncluttered, and undistracted.  She spends her day reading the bible, journaling, collecting seashells as she strolls on the beach talking to with God, and walking her neighborhood searching for homeless people she can share her small supply of food with.

Yesterday she packed a lunch for a homeless man that frequents a certain spot, and set out to find him.  As it turned out, though, he wasn't to be found.  Instead, on the way home, she encountered another homeless man walking down the street with hands lifted to the heavens, calling out "super food!".  He gladly accepted her meal ~ telling her he was going to share it with a friend.  "God bless you", they said to each other as they parted.

Shortly after returning home she received a call from an acquaintance, who offered to take her to the laundromat if she was ready.  She was, and off they went.  She had several loads to do, and she and her friend sat and talked and folded towels.

Always on the alert, Rachel noticed a young man sitting on a bench in the laundromat, dozing.  Eventually he woke up, and when he got up to leave Rachel called out, "God bless you!"  He turned, and she asked, "what's your name?".  She says she likes to know people's names and look them in the eye so she can "see deeper". 

He asked if she could give him some money; he was hungry.  He told her someone had given him some food but he thought is was poisoned because it smelled like fish.  She figured he was on drugs ~ in fact she KNEW he was.  She knew because she'd been on drugs herself until just a few months ago.  She spoke his 'language' and told him he needed to go to the "Jesus party".  He actually listened to her; he wanted to be free.  They talked a while longer, she encouraged him, and finally took him by the hand and prayed for him.

Then, she asked if he would like her to check his food and see if it was okay to eat.  She opened the bag.  It was the lunch she had packed for the homeless man and had instead given to the stranger who was going to share it with a friend.

She assured him it was quite safe to eat, it was tuna and she'd made it herself.

Rachel is 65, lives in her "mansion by the sea", with her little dog Jake.  
My visits with her are among my favorite things.

Counting My Blessings,

xo Susy

I'm joining Claudia at Mockingbird Hill Cottage
for
A Favorite Thing 

 

By Our Love

This beautiful song was written by a guest singer at  church.  It's message is so simple, yet I seem to have a difficult time living it consistently.

"Love with His hands, see with His eyes".



I'm challenged every day to genuinely love others in thought, word, and deed...

 

 

 ...but I'm workin' on it.

 Please follow me over to Spiritual Sundays

BUZZ

I'd heard the story about Buzz once before but the second time around my ears perked up.  As I listened I was wondering if his nick-name reflected his haircut at one time.  On a particular tree-lined street on the east side of town lives "Buzz".  His bio reads:  Retired fireman.   82 years young.   Loves to cook -- firehouse style.

My friend, Merri, is a benefactor of Buzz's selflessness.  Every Thursday he cooks for and delivers dinner to several of the elderly neighbors on the block.  He says it's too hard to cook for one. He even comes back around and picks up the Tupperware.

He was already cooking for the neighborhood when Merri and her husband (who are by no means elderly) began a remodeling project a couple of years ago.  She said he must have felt sorry for them, because they were added to the coveted list and began receiving Thursday night deliveries too.  Renovations long complete, they've remained on the list.  Merri says the other neighbors are jealous.  I bet!

Thanks, Buzz, for showing us how good cooks can be exceptional neighbors.  What street was that again?

 

A generous man will prosper; he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.    Proverbs 11:25

The Great Tomatoe Exchange

I'm a city girl, born and bred. Long Beach is the fifth largest city in the third largest state in the union. I know nothing about country life. When we bought our last house there was a lime tree in the back yard, and I picked it clean and gave the fruit to the workers that were helping to remodel.  The foreman came back the next morning and said, "Susana, these are not limes, they're naval oranges and you picked them too soon!"  Sheesh.

As I've roamed the blog lists, I've discovered this wonderful world of authentic, every-day country living documented on pages graced with pictures of orchards and farm wagons, clothes lines and barefoot grandbabies, pantry shelves lined with "put-up" stuff, and talk about chickens and goats.  For a while I was a little envious of the quieter, slower paced, less-stressed way of life y'all seem to enjoy.

Then some of my "peeps" came over for a meeting and one of them brought a bowl full of home-grown tomatoes (yup- that's them in the picture).  She was followed later that day by a guy coming by to pick up a TV -  and he left tomatoes.  The next day hubby came in from work with even more, and suggested we make homemade spaghetti sauce.  Soon.  Everyone's growing tomatoes!  It made me realize even city folk long for a bit of the rural; a way to connect back to simpler times, the earth, and opportunities to be neighborly.  We may not have fresh-layed eggs or clothespins, but we have our tomatoes.  I guess if you want country you just have to make your own.

So I've decided I'm going on a quest to find signs of old-fashioned country living - to see my city through a different lens, so to speak.  I'm going to seek out the simple life in the middle of the big city, and listen for conversations about neighborly acts of kindness and friendship.  I'll let you know what I discover.

If you'd like to join me, send a note - and pictures if you have them.  You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Gmail and here at The Feathered Nest.  I almost forgot, the mailman still comes by too.  Maybe he has a story.

In the meantime I'm going online to find a recipe for homemade marinara sauce. 

If you can help your neighbor now, don't say, "Come back tomorrow, and then I'll help you." Proverbs 3:28