I met a woman of her late 40's named Carmella on Tuesday in Los Angeles. I was at Grace Church, heading for the Grace Grill when I saw my good friend, Joey Mejia. He introduced me to this powerful black woman with a pair of eyes that forced me to look back. She had a whole day's food for a camp-out at the church, just praying and talking with "Papa" as she calls Him. I never used Papa when I was younger. The word just seemed so juvenile and foreign to me, really.
We both went to the Grace Grill, her sandwich already in her bag. And when we found the doors closed due to the Thanksgiving holiday, she quickly offered half of her sandwich to me. We sat there as the clouds passed, tossing questions back and forth. She would always begin with questions that I've never been asked before - why do you love your father? What's the hardest part of being 22? Have you ever read the Bible to yourself out loud? And whenever I answered, she'd praise God, looking up to the clouds and saying, "Thank you, Papa. Only you could appoint this." I felt like a prince.
After all my answers, and once the clouds became just a bit too thick for our blood, she looked me in the eyes (so I had to look back) and she told me, "Young man, you need to read your Bible more." She told me it must be more to me than my food. That to me was very tangible; I could count my calories consumed and minutes spent consuming, and I knew she was right - I was starving myself.
Since Carmella, my prayer life has changed, my time in the word had changed. She prayed for me yes, begging Papa to change me, and thanking Him for this divine life of mine. I felt honored and humbled all at once. It's no small thing, being a son of God - that's something I learned. So I pray now like I'm His. I know this may not be forever - sometimes God will feel distant. That's not the point. The point is He's not. Carmella had no husband and her ministry was humble. She knew what it was like to be a complete loon - talking to an invisible person when visible people are around - and the crazy part was that I knew she wasn't talking to me when she was praying. It was like she really believed that God was just above those clouds, observing this divine appointment that He set up, and smiling down on it. Honestly, I think, He was.
That day in Los Angeles - the only full day I had in between a month in Phoenix and my Thanksgiving trip up to Portland - was packed with experiences. I drove a girl named Elysia to the airport after she came and sat next to me at Starbucks. She sat down beside me and said nothing. In fact, it all started when I received a phone call from Marcea Ennamorado - an old YWAM acquaintance really - about visiting her in Santa Cruz on my way up to Oregon. Surprisingly, she was cool with it, and so we made plans to guide me into Santa Cruz the very next day. And as this conversation took place outside the bustling Starbucks, which was too loud to hear inside, Elysia popped her head around the corner and stared at me. I smiled a few times during my personal conversation that she was dropping into, and then went back inside. And when she came and sat next to me, not saying a word, I wasn't very surprised. She pretended to know everyone in the café, laughing at jokes from across the room, and contributing even to conversations that were barely audible from where we were. She then used my computer and hopped onto MY facebook and sent her mother a friend request.
Over the next couple of hours (I had nowhere to be until Santa Cruz) I discovered and concluded certain bits of information, one of which was that she was heading to Australia for Thanksgiving. This, I later discovered, was false. In fact, I'm not sure how much was true, since her mother facebooked me, asking where she had gone. This was after I took her to LAX and dropped her off at the "Australian" terminal. The entire drive she sang a song she made up and answered 10% of my questions with as few words as possible. She was a very strange girl, and I couldn't begin to grasp what her motivations for anything were. My best conclusion is that she was trying to prostitute herself to me. She applied lipstick when she got into the car and everything. Joe Miller - my old roommate - concluded this after I told him the story.
I hit up Expression 58 church that night, and saw Troi Barnum, Annie DiGrazia, and Lindy Conant there - old YWAMers from my DTS back in 07'. They tipped me off to Adam Blakely - another DTSer who is taking the Chronoligical School of Biblical Studies at the LA base and happened to have a cot and a pillow for a transient like me. That night I spoke with him and his roommate Lane about this school, and decided that I too will one day spend nine months studying the Bible from beginning to end. It's really a must.
In the morning, I drove up to Santa Cruz in my trusty 91' Honda Accord. Marcea guided me in by cell phone, and I landed at about 2:45. She introduced me to a fraction of her massive family and took me around Santa Cruz. This was another one of those times where I felt special. Marcea and I weren't very good friends back in Kona, but we acted like it in Santa Cruz; we hopped from Latin American Christianity, to the Islamic religion and "social anthropology" like we'd done it all before. She made sure that I saw the good parts of her town and had a sack lunch for the road before I left in the morning.
On my way, my car turned 200,000, and I documented it on my camera.
I arrived in Oregon with snow gathered in the corners of the yard and smoke coming from the chimney. On the drive up, I lied to my father and told him that I was going to be late for Thanksgiving dinner. Turns out I was just in time. Four of us ate a humble turkey dinner at the table with jazz music playing from the radio in the kitchen.
I had very much to be thankful for. Thank you Papa.
-Phil
