“Jimmy died. He overdosed in the bathroom of the public library.”
Claire’s words sent needles of fire from my gut to my head. I sat, stunned for a few moments, as if I was paralyzed. As her footsteps echoed down the hall, I began to cry. Thoughts raced through my mind of the last time I saw Jimmy.
He was so high on morphine that he hardly recognized me when we ran into each other on the street. It was the only time I ever felt like not being around him. It would be the last time I would ever see him. I wondered if I loved Jimmy, as Christ would have me love him.
Jimmy made everybody laugh. Everyone on my team as well as our many friends on the streets loved him a lot. His death comes as a severe blow to our hearts. We all have our favorites, and he was one of them. It is hard to imagine someone you love laying on the cold floor of a bathroom, knowing that addiction had the final say in their life. While the loss of my friend will cause me to grieve for some time, I would like to honor his life with a story about one of the most powerful moments and treasured conversations I had with him. It is from my journal entry dated 11/24/07…
3:30 A.M. On my way to work today, I walked down Haight Street and wondered what I was doing here in San Francisco. “Why am I living this life?” Feeling a little down to be certain. The streets at this hour are cold, black and empty, save a few neon signs and window lighting. I remember asking God to refresh me.
A few moments later I ran into Jimmy. He seemed very awake given the hour and immediately he began to tell me how much the homeless love us, and how highly we are thought of. “You guys are good people man. Everybody loves you.” My eyes filled with tears and my vision became blurred despite my best efforts to hold back emotions. When I told Jimmy how I was feeling just a few moments earlier, he began shaking his head as if to reject what I was saying. “God never leaves us. That’s a promise He gave us.” He went on to reassure me that our meeting was ordained before the world began.
As our conversation continued, a silly thought crossed my mind. He kind of looked like Jesus, or how I think Jesus might have looked. Long hair, beard, dirty skin. The two of us waited for my bus at the corner. A few moments before it arrived, Jimmy asked me to pray for him about his addictions. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I closed my eyes and began to speak to the Lord. I felt the power of the Holy Spirit course through my body, making me dizzy. He said thanks as I boarded my bus.
On my commute, a sudden realization hit me. That was the first time I ever received anything from anyone on the streets. How precious. How wonderful.
So there I was, a missionary, and I was the one needing assurance and comfort. The Lord answered my prayers by sending me one of His own. I may question myself in the time to come about how I could have loved Jimmy more, but there is no question as to whether he loved me.
Michael Browne
Wants to go to Africa
Loves good coffee
Believes hope is the most important thing
Still waiting to be married
Comments (1)
I'm so very sorry for your loss. Having lost a young person (age 18) to a heroin overdose just a year ago....my heart itself sort of yearns to hug yours. (if that makes sense)
Grace and peace and keep the faith. :)
Janice
Posted by Janice | April 24, 2008 10:58 AM
Posted on April 24, 2008 10:58