Marty

Marty is a quiet guy…46 years old. He told me earlier this week that when he was a child he listened to his parents fight all the time. Alcohol at an early age became his escape. Now the escape has him. He still hears the arguing in his head, the alcohol no longer silences the sounds of thunderous verbal battles between two people who were suppose to love and cherish one another.

Today he doesn’t care if they ever learned to get along however the damage was done and his means of escape holds him a prisoner.

Oh no he doesn’t use this as an excuse to explain away why he drinks. He was only telling us where and when it all began.

We had Marty in an alcohol program. It lasted three days. Marty walked and is now at a local restaurant again cleaning the parking lot for ten bucks a day and a tray of food. He lives behind a dumpster at night.

Just once I wish the streets could reveal to me a gentle sweet story. Sure we’ve seen many miracles of men leaving the cement world behind  finding sobriety. The 14th Street Bridge still remains empty of passed out human beings. Under the 13th Street Bridge very few aluminum 211 Black beer cans can be counted. Success can be measured on more than two hands. Then there’s Marty!

I can’t quit on him. The program he went to I waved goodbye holding my breath. I always know when one just won’t make it. Not because of Marty or because of the program. I just always know when the two connecting together just won’t mix. This was one of them.

We got Marty’s buddy Mark hooked up with the V.A. He’s been making appointments, (I drive him to the bus every day) and it seems like he could do fine. The V.A. has an excellent recovery program for veterans. Marty however isn’t a vet. Therefore he’s lost in a crazy shuffle.

Almost had David into a program. Made the calls, the ride was on its way to pick him up. I left 5 min. before the ride was due to arrive giving David a way out. If I was wrong he would stay at Burger King to be picked up. If I was right…I was right I heard later he took off as soon as I pulled out of the parking lot. Later that afternoon he “somehow” got a bus back to Atlanta.

Ever try to juggle 4 uncooked eggs for the first time? Sooner than later they will drop and break. Gives you an idea of what it’s like sometimes trying to wake a homeless alcoholic up.

I came out of the gym yesterday which is right next door to where some of our guys buy beer in Columbus. I heard a drunk voice in front of an empty building and walked over. To GREAT sadness there was Donnie. He had been living with his brother and sister-in-law since Tim died. (about 4 months) Now here he was blitzed out of his mind. I left with heavy heavy sorrow.

Later last night our church went to the bridge to pray. I saw on the other side of the bridge fire trucks, police cars, an ambulance. Missy and I headed for the lights. We knew it had to be Donnie. It was.

Very long story short, they handed him over to us and we took him onto the bridge while we all prayed.

Just as we were about done I noticed Donnie struggling to stand. He finally was up and he walked to our prayer circle and joined in. After Pastor was done praying for him he asked us if we would take him home.

We called his sister-in-law and she agreed to let him come home even though he was very drunk. Donnie, I hope, realizes that all his old friends are either off the streets or have died.  I was never more happy than when he got into Donalds truck to go back home.

I need a house. I need a place to renovate to keep about 6 men at a time in order to help the men that are not veterans. Yes like Marty. Our ministry could help Marty. And what if Donnie couldn’t go home last night? Being on the streets without a “runnin buddy”…well you could die and nobody would know.

Pray that our prayers will soon be answered. We are in desperate need of a building and don’t forget my house! The house for “mis fit toys”! Our men from the streets.