Mirror Image

I have been told several times throughout my life that I am a hippie. Perhaps that's why reaching the people in Venice appealed to me. Walking the boardwalk near the beach reminded me of different parts of Portland, my home. There was so much talent. So much art. So many people, clearly living in the same street they produced their art in, that were so...kind.

There was a young girl. She had on holy jeans that were probably quite stylish at one point with little patches on them, a lacy creme colored shirt and long dark brown hair that framed her small face. Her skin was a deep tan from living on the beach and she didn't wear any shoes. I felt compelled to have a conversation with her. She couldn't be homeless could she?

I sat down next to her in the grass and began talking to her. I found out her name was Amber and she was 20. Originally from New Hampshire, she had been living at Venice for a couple months now. As we spoke, I began to see so much of myself in her. I saw the way my life could have gone if I didn't have Jesus. I saw where her life could go if she did. I only got to speak with her for probably 15 minutes before the group I was with had to leave. I wanted to bring her back with me. I wanted to bring her clothes and shoes and blankets. I wanted to love on her and be her friend. I promised her I would be back and then we hugged and I left.

I went back. For weeks, I went back to find her again. I took her clothes and toiletries but I never found her. So many Tuesdays and Fridays I would wander up and down the boardwalk with people from Hope For Homeless Youth and search for her. I would get so wrapped up in this short memory of this girl, not so much unlike me, and spend time crying and praying that she was okay. I never saw her again.
I don't know where she is.
Or what she is doing.
I dont know if she is okay. I dont know if she is even alive. But I have to believe that God blessed me with that short encounter so that I could remember to pray for her, constantly.
I have't forgotten her and everytime I go to Venice, I still look for her.
Just in case.

Generation X...XX

This weekend, I visited a community hidden in the hole of Hollywood. Around midnight and well into the early morning hours, a group of us traveled to an area of town to do unusual outreach- focusing on sharing the love of Jesus with transgendered prostitutes.

Totally an eye-opening experience, shocking and disturbing simultaneously. I stood in the middle of this place, wanting to punch Satan's lights out- if he had lights. What drives a person to such depressing lifestyles? Men dressing as women because they have denied who God created them to be...or they believe they were created incorrectly. Mini skirts, promiscuity that no child should ever have to witness. Maybe that is why these outcasts crowd the area at the wee hours of nighttime.

Again I find my heart broken for these broken, hurting people who have accepted a lifestyle that is detestable because they themselves have been rejected. I wonder what brought them to this place. Dark...just very dark.

Men in their expensive cars pick up these transgenders to violate them and to satisfy fleshly cravings. What has the world come to??! Seriously.

I am thankful for the Hope for Homeless Youth outreach ministry that goes out into Hollywood to reach people who walk around like zombies at night...going out to reach these people, not to heap judgment on them, but to love the darkness out of them.

Even though I was disturbed by the sight of the immoral activity by that Donut shop, I know God hasn't forgotten those broken lives, and uses us to reach out to them.

-Shimmy

Skid Row, Broken Roads

There’s a place in downtown L.A. that I go to sometimes. It’s where thousands of broken and hurting people live. They stay on the streets and live in camp tents, sleeping in cardboard boxes, begging for food and shooting heroin into their arms. It’s a place called Skid Row, the dumping ground for the ignored and seemingly hopeless.

I remember my first time experiencing the atmosphere of Skid Row a few years ago, and my heart instantly broke for the people there. I have never in my life seen a community so depressing- around every corner, homeless people lying around like dead people, screaming and cursing in the streets like they just escaped from an insane asylum. There is so much oppression and destruction.

Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” He hasn’t forgotten about these people and He uses us to reach out to them.

There is a ministry called “Under the Bridge” that I have been privileged to get involved with, which goes out to Skid Row every week. The poor and homeless are given plates of food, and are loved with God’s love. Some people show their appreciation, while others take the food and leave, but many people are being blessed in the middle of their pain.

It’s hard to explain in words…it’s totally different to actually be there than just hear about it. It’s a total nightmare and these people need constant help and prayer because they are living in a vicious cycle of shame. I have witnessed several people freed from this path and regain hope, but there are many others who haven’t yet.

Why do I go to Skid Row? There’s nothing remotely attractive about that place- it reeks of urine and garbage and huge roaches crawl around. I go because God has broken my heart for the people there, and I know that I can make a difference, even if it’s just a little difference. Those people desperately need love and someone to have compassion for them. I go because it’s an opportunity to go beyond the walls and get out of my comfort zone. That’s where Jesus would be if He were incarnate.


-Shimmy

Friendship Stars

I love that when we think we are going to go out and impact people, they somehow end up working their way into our heart and impacting us on a deeper level then we realized they could.
I'll never forget when I went out to do busses one night before church.

There was this little girl named Crystal, it was her birthday, and
she was turning 8. Within 5 minutes I became her bestfriend. She had a whole conversation with me about this girl named aquamarine that wore orange star fish for earrings. She told me how beautiful they were and that they sparkled. I was dazzled by this little girl. We had picked her up from an area in LA that was not the best place for an 8 year old to be growing up and I found myself astonished as to how her imagination and childlike views were still in place.

When she finally took a breath and stopped telling me all about these special earrings, I told her that if I found
some the next time I was at the beach I would give them to her. I told her she probably couldn't make earrings out of them cause they would be too big but she could at least keep them as a pretty souvenior. To my surprise, she told me that I could keep one and she would keep one and they would be our friendship stars.

My heart was touched in a way I can't tell you.