“Mrs. Jordan,” she said… “Do you remember my 11-year-old son, Chris, when we lived in that open field called Tent City?” I said yes, I did remember him. “Well, he just got out of jail after serving two years for a gang-related shooting. Please, can you help us? Please, Mrs. Jordan.”
Mona went on to tell me that her son, Chris, was sentenced to two years in jail, after hitting an 8-year-old girl when she was caught in the cross-fire in a gang fight. Thank God, the little girl didn’t die, but Chris did two years. Then Mona grabbed my hands and pleaded, “Can you help us today like you helped us in Tent City? I just don’t know what to do. Please help us.”
Mona told me she didn’t want to move back to downtown Los Angeles, because that's where her son, Chris got involved in gangs in the first place. And she had even greater concerns that her other children would also get pulled into gangs if they lived in the inner city. “I know it’s going to happen unless you help me do something."
The longer Mona talked, the more I realized why the Lord had called me to the hurting people here on the streets of Skid Row all those years ago. Mona still needed to know that we are here for her. --- and even more importantly, she needed to be reminded that our loving Heavenly Father is always with her.
I didn’t have all the answers to all the questions and the problems in Mona had in her life, so I just did what any mother would do when they see one of their children in pain – I wrapped by arms around Mona, one of my children of the street, and let her cry. For a few minutes, she knew that she was safe, and for a few minutes she knew that someone cared. I prayed for Mona. I prayed for her son, Chris, who had just been released from jail.
And as I drove home, I prayed for God to send us friends like you – friends who will join hearts and hands with us to touch lost, hurting people with the love of Jesus. Please go to our website, www.fjm.org, and help me touch precious, hurting people like Mona.
Willie Jordan (Mrs. Fred Jordan)