WALKING ROUTE 66
When You Can Make Someone Smile Do It
Consider yourself blessed beyond measure.
After bidding my “neighbors” farewell with a silent prayer for their highest good, I headed toward Tulsa. It was still dark when I got started, but there was a sidewalk for me to use.
The old Route 66 runs on 11th Street through the old neighborhoods into the newer part of the city. It was an eclectic journey. I saw a mailbox that was a miniature replica of an old jalopy, a farmer’s market type of antique store, and graffiti adorned buildings that housed businesses.
You miss all this beauty when you’re zipping through town on the Interstate. There is such a rich and diverse cultural experience that you can enjoy when you take time to slow down.
According to GoogleMaps, or GPS, as they called it in those days, there is a park along the river in the downtown area that seemed friendly to people spending the night there. I wanted to make sure that it would be safe, and I wouldn’t get in trouble. I saw a Police Station and went in to gather more info. They told me that there is a Salvation Army shelter in Downtown that may accommodate me or give me an alternate location if they couldn’t.
The Salvation Army had me fill out a form and told me that I could spend one night there, and I should wait outside because they will call me after 4:30. There were a lot of folks waiting outside, including some families with children. That was my cue to take out the balloons. I knew well that I wasn’t going to receive any tips, but that’s not why I do it.
It brings me joy to see the faces of the children light up when they get a balloon. That is worth a lot more than any money I would get paid. There was a line forming in no time flat.
At 4:30, the first one to be called in were people with medical conditions and families, so the little ones went in, and the big kids got in line. When I say big kids, I am mean 20-years and older. A young man started talking to me about how I ended up at the Salvation Army. I gave him one of my fliers before going in.
I had to check in my stroller with the security. I grabbed my phone and toiletries bag and went to the dining room.
Everyone received a towel, a bedsheet, and a blanket, and we all had a bunk. There were 50 bunk beds in the hall.
By the time I took a shower and got to my bunk, half the people in the hall new about my trip and were coming up to offer encouragement or ask questions. The young man with flier had told just about everyone.
As I laid there on my upper bunk, I was trying to make sense of what had just happened. Two nights ago, I had to sleep under a bridge like a homeless man. I learned that I must trust that God doesn’t burden a soul more than it can bear.
The night before, I chose to sleep under a bridge with a homeless couple and became an instrument of Providence for a day for them. Bill Gossett had reminded me that the blessing is in the giving, and here I was, one of over a hundred homeless people in one huge room.
I kept wondering, is there a lesson in all this that I am not seeing? I thought about what Melany had said about digging deep as I drifted in and out of sleep throughout the night, being grateful that I had a roof over my head.
As I think back and ponder.
When I was young, I had heard a story that became the foundation of my belief that I am, we all are, always taken care of. It was a parable, and like all parables, it had a cultural figure as the protagonist.
At the appointed hour, the angel of death came to Moses to tell him that God was summoning him back. Moses told him to get lost; he wasn’t ready yet.
“I got my orders,” said the angel. “I can’t go back empty-handed.”
“That’s your problem,” said Moses, as he headed toward the mountain to straighten things out.
“What’s the matter Moses, you’ve lived a good life.”
“It’s not about me, Lord,” Moses objected. “Who would take care of my people if I am gone?”
God tells him to strike the rock in front of him with his staff. When Moses does that, an insect crawls out with something in its mouth.
“If I can provide for the insects living inside a rock, do you think I can take care of ‘your people’?”
I don’t know about the historical validity, but the story left a lasting impression on my mind that I will always have enough.
Stay blessed and be happy, my friends.
Day 69: Tulsa Town (Original blog post).
Just for fun.
I invite you to tag along if you’re up to it. I am mentioning a few friends who may be interested in it. If you are tagged but don’t want to read my stories daily, let me know in the comments, and I will remove your name moving forward. If you are reading this and aren’t included in the list below, but you’d like to come along, let me know so that I can add you.
Michele Amy Trista Henery Timothy Tim P.G. Sherry Saloni Indra B. A. Linda Sharon Tree Linda Britni Desiree Elisabeth Simona Kristin Helen Julia Chris Rosennab Tom Truenorth Agnes Aurora LauraRaduenz Catherine Joe Stuart Gurpreet BFoundAPen Margie Bob NaNa’sworld Wolfie Rebecca Susannah
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Rasheed Hooda is a published author who has contributed to many of Medium’s top Publications; The Startup, The Ascent, P.S. I Love You, Rogues’ Gallery, and ILLUMINATION, to name a few. He is also a Top Writer for several topics. If you like his work, buy him a cup of coffee, he drinks a lot of it.
