Parrish

Wednesday morning.  Grabbed my basketball and heading for the court.  Anticipating a long day due to early release from school, I wanted time to shoot around and relax my mind.  I got only one block towards the court when I walked by a fence and a dog barked and ran up to me, looking angry.  I gave a "How ya doin?" to the man outside and he replied with a "You play an instrument?"  What?  Strange coincidence because I went to school for music performance.  "Yeah.  I play the viola."  "Well, come on over (pointing towards the open doors to his garage in the back), I just plugged in m' amps and the ol' geetar.  Les jam."  Realizing my plans to spend alone time were disrupted, I hesistantly told him, "Uh, sure let me go get it, I'll be right back."

Most of me really didn't want to go play, but this was a strange coincidence and I was curious what would take place.  As I walked towards his house for the second time, I began to think of every worst case scenario I could.  Could he be lying?  No one knows where I am or what I'm doing.  I didn't actually see any amps or guitars anywhere.  What a strange casual acceptance of me being a stranger that he had.  I was reassured and relieved when I heard the sounds of amplified guitar chords as I approached the house.  The dog attacked me again with barks, but no bite.  "Hey buddy, how are you?" in a high pitched voice changed his teeth-showing to tail-wagging and he let me pet him.  I walked towards the back and entered the open doors of the garage, trying to get eye-contact so he knew I was present.  I held out my hand.  "What's your name?"  "Parrish."  "I'm Andrew, nice to meet you."  He continued playing as I got my viola ready.  No more words exchanged.  Just music.  The garage had junk in it but it was generally empty, just a shelf with various books, an empty fish aquarium, a TV, some other things, and a handgun.  Yes, a handgun.

"You heard of Cat Stevens?"  Not wanting to tell him that I know none of his songs, I said, "Yeah."  Thankfully, he didn't ask me which songs I knew, he proceeded to play and I played in the background.  "You are a nice young Christian man."  How do you know about me? I thought.  Then I remembered that a couple of weeks ago, we passed out flyers for our summer day camp on that street.  We played and after that Cat Stevens song, he said, "Freakin' awesome." (except he didn't say freakin') I kept on playing songs he knew, Beatles, Neil Young, some others I forgot the names of.  He asked me what kind of music I play.  I told him that I play mostly classical.  He asked me to play something, so I played my go-to, Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G.  He was excited to hear me play and enjoyed the time that we got to "jam".

Out of nowhere, he shared his story with me.  About where he's from (Pittsburgh), his family, his job, all of that.  When he told the story about how his grandpa died by getting hit by a car, Parrish started to cry.  I didn't know what to do, so I just kept listening, not knowing what this 52 year old man has gone through.  He offered me a drink.  Green tea was the only non-alcoholic thing he offered, so I chose that.  He does jiu-jitsu (I believe) and has even been asked to teach classes for it.  He showed me his driver's license and a more bloated and heavier man just months earlier.  He was getting in shape.  Sorry if these facts and stories are kind of directionless, but that's kind of the way they were told to me, no real flow, just jumping from one memory to the next.

Probably the thing that was most perplexing was that this man very clearly loved the LORD, being thankful for His grace and realizing that he wouldn't be where he was today if it weren't for God.  He's amazed that with all the crazy stuff (he didn't use the word "stuff") he's done, that God would still love him.  He quoted me his favorite scripture word for word and mentioned that he loved going to church and had some extra Bibles if I wanted any.  He's honestly the first person I've ever met that talks with such love for God and what He's done, yet every other sentence he uses the f word as if it's just another adjective.

We finished off jam session with him talking about his 20 yr old daughter coming to visit him this weekend, a daughter who he hadn't seen in 7 years.  As he talked about her, he started to cry again.  Big heart this guy.  He showed me his house.  Almost everything he has, he found on the sides of the streets.  He's so thankful for everything he has.

I hope to jam with Parrish again soon, since he has welcomed me over anytime.  We finished by praying which he was more than happy to include himself in.  Overall, it was a positive encounter and it made me wish I knew my neighbors more.  I recognize faces and give friendly waves to people, but what are their names?  What could their life experience show me about God, or even the differences in my life and their's?

You probably see your neighbors all the time, but maybe you've never had a long conversation with them.  I sometimes find myself imprisoned by my schedule, not allowing for any real relaxed time to just relate to people.  Please pray that I would be more willing to go past the "How y'all doin?" formalities and get to actually know people.  Anyway, Wednesday provided me with a neighbor.

Who is my neighbor?