Story by Susan Stevens (Author)
I have a son, John, who is 35 years old, lives in a downtown Los Angeles hotel, doesn’t own a car and is not interested in material things. When he lived here in Washington he helped with an inner city ministry that fed and clothed the homeless or low income.
He moved to Los Angeles to get away from the cold weather as he is diabetic and the cold was bothering him. In California he is a street entertainer. He has been hired by studios, restaurants, and various festivals in the area. I used to think he really needed a regular job, but eventually was given the peace that he is doing what he is supposed to do.
He has a tender heart and a burden for children. He loves to make them laugh. He is a comic who does simple “magic” tricks, and makes balloon animals, hats, bikes, etc. These things he gives away to the children that go by. He has a jar and accepts donations, but never charges. He gives them all the best, or lets the child tell him what they want. Sometimes he receives a donation from a parent standing nearby, but this is not what matters to him. He gives to the children out of his love for them and because, as he put it “I don’t ever want a child to feel left out.” He gets busy and I don’t hear from him as often as I would like. Since he has had some severe problems with his diabetes, I get concerned when too much time goes by. I last heard from him in February and he was having some problems at that time. He doesn’t have a phone and the pay phone number at the hotel had been disconnected. As at least 5 months had gone by without hearing from him, and I was going through my “worried mother” roll.
While driving home from work one night, I was listening to a radio program where the DJ takes song requests from callers. As I pulled into my driveway a caller was requesting a song titled “He’s My Son”. Her son was away from home, had medical problems and she wanted to hear this particular song. I knew the song and, since my own son was on my heart that night, I wanted to get inside my home before I started to cry. Once inside my home I turned on the radio and as the song got to the chorus that’s exactly what I did….cry.
The words echoed through my livingroom:
Can you hear me
am i getting through tonight
can you see him
can you make him feel alright
if you can hear me
let me take his place somehow
see he’s not just anyone
he’s my son
can you hear me
can you see him
please don’t leave him
he’s my son
As the tears flowed, my heart felt those words and my desire to hear from my son increased. As soon as the song was over, but still asking God to please take care of my son, I went to my home office and turned on my computer to check email. That’s when the phone rang. I heard a familiar voice and began to cry again. It was my son! I told him what has just happened, and in my heart I kept thanking my loving Father for giving me the desire of my heart that night. God is so awesome!!
Write Susan and let her know your thoughts on her story at: [email protected]
