Pieces of People Sunshine

 /ˈwīldˌflou(ə)r/ : a flower growing freely without human intervention

/ro͞ot/ :  to establish deeply and firmly

Over a decade ago, while employed as a landscaper, I would sit on the ride along mower and plot my course. With precision in the height of the blade, my need for flawlessness exuded in crisp lines. Every area was thoroughly manicured, except for one spot. In spring, when the brief existence of nature flourished into cherry blossoms, another grove of seeds were taking shape. Unlike the dual meaning of beauty and sacrifice of "Sakura, Sakura" (Cherry Blossom), the English Daisy— often tinged pink and opening at dawn, while closing again at dusk— was viewed as a gardener’s nuisance. Perceived as a lawn weed, many have tried to eliminate Bellis perennis fortitude in growing as a cluster, within sections of meticulously kept grass. One day, after a closer inspection, I made the sole decision to respect their intrusion and not sheer them down. With a mixture of sunshine and coastal rain, they soon grew and were noticed by many of the seniors, residing at the complex. They were amused by seeing me drive the mower and swerve around the grouping of pink petals. Meanwhile, the one person not pleased was my boss, who ordered their demise. Yet time and time again, as I worked through the season, I saw the ‘weeds’ as something I would continue to stand for ~ optimism. 

So many winding roads in my life have been the embodiment of hope; where either I fought hard to cling to it or by which I lost sight of. On my 48^th Birthday, I found wildflowers amongst the weeds, and a new purpose for treasuring amid my roots… the true gifts one receives in the name of Love. 

When I awoke on January 17^th at 5:45am, I already had my first of many birthday greetings that would follow. In my morning prayer, I sought a plan for the day, knowing full well, God directs my steps. I was blessed with the vehicle of a dear friend, which would make my strategy for a day of giving, much easier. Later, I would park the car in a safely lit area, as I knew I needed to walk the streets to speak with others.

Preparing for the long day, I paused to think how there was nothing I asked for, other than to be safe. The most precious birthdays had already been shared in 21 years of memories and photographs; captured with my daughter. Now, these milestones of celebrations were of giving to others.

My first stop of many was at the local cemetery. As I tied the balloons to a bouquet of white roses and a blue hydrangea, half of a glorious sunrise peeked through trees of remembrance. Leaving a kiss on the plaque of Lindsay’s grave, I said: “This is from your mom.” Turning to leave, I added… “Could you tell Shayla, her momma misses her so much today.” 

Back at the car, I noted the multi-coloured Gerbera daisies I had bought, to give to others. That morning, my friend Terry and her mother each were given one.

I had chosen to have my birthday meal at Denny’s – one of the places where Shayla and I enjoyed going to and much laughter had been shared. Sitting in a booth, I thought of how she would love to be across from me, sharing a chocolate peanut butter milkshake. I imagined Shayla throwing her head back, letting out a laugh that brought attention – something my daughter did not care about. The authenticity of who she was shining thru.  

As I ordered my meal, I noticed the waitress was handling several busy tables. After I finished eating, I left a tip and also one of Shayla’s favourite quotes, along with a Gerbera daisy.

Later on, I went to the Christian Book & Music Store. The money my brother sent me for my birthday, was used to purchase some items (a cover/case for my Bible, a CD and book). The things I bought were meant to evoke thought, emotion and progression of my faith. I did not know the hardcover, A Grace Disguised, would have a connection to someone else, who later that night their story would be shared. 

While shopping, I recognized a familiar voice call my name. It was Shania, a former roommate in a boarding house, I once rented month to month. She was now working at the store and as we engaged in conversation, I noticed a transformation. Her wide smile held such joy and there was warmth when we hugged. Before leaving, I gave Shania, the owner of the business and another employee, the last of my flowers.

The happiness shared carried me onto my mission of the day: to gift someone the jacket of my daughter’s. The one I held onto for seven years. The winter jacket that once contained her pebbles and gemstones, wrapped with a mothers note to her child. 

The snapshot of Shayla wearing the jacket, along with her beloved pink pants, on a hike.

In December, I had intentions of letting the jacket go. However, the importance of listening amongst the winter solitude saw me wait until my birthday. 

 Placed into numerous pockets were several items that meant something to Shayla and me; with hope it all would resonate with a stranger. I placed a small cross, the Serenity Prayer and a shell with the word Courage, within the lining. Zipped inside another pocket, was a silver token that had an angel on one side and the words “Always With You.” Lastly, into the side pockets I put five dollars and a rock painted by Shayla, when she was a little girl. I prayed over the coat, before taking it with me to deliver, to someone in need on the streets. 

Throughout the years of giving back within the city, I have met various homeless people. Some only for a short minute, while others we have sat together on the concrete and connected. I recall my interaction with a gentleman named David – “the pencil guy,” as he was fondly called for selling his pens and pencils. Always smiling, engaging in small talk and with a hat that he wore with confidence, David Irwin was someone who brought delight in encountering him. Being a creator of stories, I wondered what his was. 

When a person befriended and trusted me to share their journey to the streets, I valued their own roots of hardships. Back then, I never imagined my future work injuries and delay of sickness benefits, would find me without a home. The silver lining being my vehicle was a shelter on wheels. Despite my setbacks, I continued to give in ways that were knotted with my faith. A thread throughout my life, woven amongst the pain of others, exists because I have known chaos… in the midst of love. Still, I have experienced how God gives joyous praise in place of broken hearts.

With pure intentions, I was determined to give something that once wrapped my daughter in warmth. 

By now it was nearing evening, as the briskness of January crept in; I set out to approach others. I found a man who was setting up a tarp around him, to try and shut out the cold. His actions, reminded me of a shield, he hoped would help him survive another winter’s night. Advancing towards the man, I noticed his large stature and the jacket would never fit him. I was thankful he had on a long, tanned coat, yet wished I could do more.  

As he settled onto the heavy rained concrete, I imagined the stories tucked under the soaked tarp, held the remains of a system, flawed by bureaucracy.

When taking this profound snapshot, it was never to bring shame, rather awareness.   

Standing there, I was disheartened to see how the people walked around him in avoidance, as if he was a load of trash needing to be disposed of. 

Shortly after, I had to push myself onward. In my hands, I clutched a bag that had the word Love written all over it. At that moment, I did not feel much love for what I was doing, because I felt it was not enough. Mixed with my emotions, the cold and tiredness, I made a decision that saw me walk into dangerous territory. In the past, there have been many compassionate homeless people who have warned me of places not to venture. These included alleys, areas of serious drug activity and locations where I could be an easy target. In a moment of desperation, I took the path that not any of my friends or family would want me to go on. In doing so, I also lost the purpose of what the gifting was about. Taking a wrong turn led me to an area that I had not come across. As I walked with my bag, I pictured a neon sign flashing a warning! 

All eyes were on me as I tried not to look directly at anyone. Drug use was widespread, with paraphernalia being used openly. A fight was brewing and tensions ran high. 

I held onto the bag with the winter jacket and stopped. While others were hanging around, I realized in my gut that I had made a big mistake. Having the best intentions could cause me serious harm. In that moment, I asked God to protect me and get me out of the situation. I began to back away, with every heavy step I felt at ease. Only when I was within city limits did I feel safer. Exhaling, I thanked God I was no longer in jeopardy. It was a moment of release, when I knew that I had to trust in Him, in leading me to the right person to receive the coat.

Nearing a corner, I saw a woman in her fifties, sitting on her walker and asking for change. I approached and introduced myself. In a soft spoken voice she said her name was *Susan. Within minutes, we were having a conversation. When I shared about my daughter, her jacket and about my birthday wish to gift it to someone, Susan’s tears began to flow. I told her of being foolishly led by my exhaustion to a certain area. With eyes that widened, she  shook her head in disbelief. 

“You never want to go there; I was once attacked in that area by a woman high on drugs!” Susan exclaimed.

I was grateful for her company and shared about my faith. I told the woman how over the years, despite such tragic loss and anarchy, I was steadfast in my beliefs. Susan’s head hung down as she said, “I use to believe…not anymore.” 

It was as if the gravity of what she had endured, numbed the feelings of hope trying to reach her.

This prompted me to ask, with a gentle tone, as to why not? 

Soon, she was sharing the heartbreak endured by the loss of her partner, who had died of Cancer, the year before. I then discovered the man also had been on the streets, as long ago, his wife and son were killed by a drunk driver. The very vice that eradicated his loved ones, was the substance that consumed the man. He drank Jack Daniels; unable to cope with his immeasurable losses. With the passing of time, the man quit and became sober. Befriended by Pacifica Housing, he was able to get into a place of his own. 

Now, there was a connection to the book I had bought earlier that day. 

In A Grace Disguised, the author Jerry Sittser lost his mother, wife and daughter in one multiplied tragedy, when a drunk driver took their lives. 

Bending down to hug Susan, I embraced all the sorrow that was flowing from us. Over the next ½ hour, we talked about many things; especially about flagging faith in times of despair. In keeping our conversation private, I know at that moment, God needed me to be a street preacher, to someone in dire need. Often, in the most unexpected places you find hope. 

 

Susan spoke of much love for the man she was partners with and asked in my helping others, if I had encountered him? With a weakened smile, she added…

“His name was David. Most knew him as the pencil guy.” 

I was quiet, holding back the tears that wanted to spill freely.  

My voice was mumbled as I replied, “Yes, certainly I met and spoke with him, many times. He was so kind, smiling always. I would offer whatever items I was giving and he always declined, saying pass it along to someone who really needs it.” 

Susan looked at me, she said: “That was why the diagnosis of Cancer was very hard. It happened last year and he was gone.” 

It occurred to me that I had been working in the north, when David died. 

David Irwin ~ the pencil guy    Photo: Pacifica Housing

After an exchange of sympathies, I knew by hugging Susan, that she was a frail woman. My attention shifted onto her as I placed my hand on her shoulder, I asked: 

“If there is anything I could get you right now, what would it be?” 

Susan’s voice was a whisper: “Due to my grief, I don’t eat much anymore. If you could please get me one can of Ensure, I would be grateful.” 

            

Her response overwhelmed me. In a shattered world where dependency is rampant, this lady simply wanted a nutritional supplement drink. 

Hurrying over to the local drugstore, I bought her half a case of Ensure. Needing a bag, I placed them into one I purchased, which seemed well-timed with the quote.

Returning to Susan, I noticed the rain was falling heavier than before. Her reaction to my gifting was one of humbleness.

Thanking me, she remarked, “I only expected one.”

As we hugged and parted ways, Susan reminded me to stay safe! 

It was then I remembered the jacket….

By T L Alton 

 *Certain names have been changed to protect the identity of individuals.