It’s been awhile since I’ve written.

The days and weeks have turned to months, and the daily pace never seems to ease, but I still think often and fondly of my friends in New York City. I occasionally still talk to some of the men on the phone. The conversations that start as just a quick “calling to say hello” quickly turn into half an hour or more of laughing and encouraging each other. I think the men I talk to usually end up encouraging me more than I do them.

The phone calls I like the most are when the guys tell me about their successes — new jobs, new apartments, new girlfriends, but most importantly, new hope. So many beautiful, hope-filled stories.

One of my favorite success stories is that of my friend, Orrin Johnson.

You might remember Orrin from some of my posts last summer — a natural artist with enough energy for three people. When I first met Orrin, we were standing in the dinner line at the New York City Rescue Mission and he told me he’d like to get together sometime and work on some music together. I told him my week was a little bit crazy, but that we’d find a time to connect. He smiled and said “We’ll get together, because I know God has crossed our paths.” A couple days later, I sat down at the piano while he started belting out some of the songs he had written. He explained to me that the main song he wanted to work on had a catchy hook behind it like Prince’s “Controversy.” He hummed the hook, I played it, and we jammed for an hour.

It wasn’t long before I found out Orrin had incredible graphic art ability as well. One day, he pulled out a pen & ink drawing that blew my mind and announced that it was part of a series he had started called “Spacek Art Unlimited.” Later, when I asked him what “part of a series” meant, he went up to his locker and brought out a portfolio of dozens of similar pieces of art. He also pulled out a picture of some of his “industrial art” as he called it — welded pieces and sculptures that he made several years ago. And so it began that Orrin and I would spend Tuesday afternoons together, creating art, talking about life and faith, and growing a deep-seeded friendship.  

In July, Orrin and his artwork were part of a benefit art show at the Lamb’s Underground Gallery in New York City. As people meandered through the gallery, Orrin stood near his art, looking polished as a New York socialite does, mingling with the guests and answering all of their questions with eloquence. 

The next morning, Orrin gave his testimony at church. He talked about how God had brought him through a rough past and had freed him from the bondage of addiction. It was obvious to anyone who met Orrin that he was serious about his faith, because he often preached mini-sermons about how much God loves us during his everyday, social interactions. This particular time that Orrin gave his testimony in church stands out to me, because halfway through his testimony, the electricity went out, killing the lights and sound system. It was almost like a sign from a distant, yet very near peaceful place that seemed to say, “This man doesn’t need any of this other stuff. He’s found Me.”

Just a few weeks later, I got an e-mail from my friend Mishel Smith, who lives near San Antonio, TX. Mishel (who used to be my middle school choir teacher) said that her and her husband, Jason, had been keeping up with my endeavors in New York. They own a side business that hosts artist websites and she said that they would like to donate one if it could be of use to any of the guys. As I read her e-mail, Orrin popped into my head. 

A few days later, I ran the idea past Orrin: What would you think about cataloguing some of your creations and putting them online for the world to see? At this, his face lit up. So Orrin and I spent an afternoon last August photographing his Spacek creations and getting all of the details lined out. In the back of my head, I thought that the website would make a great gift for when he graduated from his recovery program. 

I came back to Oklahoma, but still corresponded with Orrin and those near him from time to time via e-mail. In October, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and had to begin radiation treatments. I mentioned this to Orrin in an e-mail once, and a few days later I received a card in the mail from Orrin and my friend, Troy, signed by all of the guys and staff at the New York City Rescue Mission!

It wasn’t long after that that I got word that Orrin had come down with pneumonia and had to be hospitalized for awhile, but a few weeks later I got word that he was doing much better and was back to his energetic self.

Orrin and I talked on the phone in January, but since then, life has been full of work and projects and the occasional adventure and I didn’t call for awhile. However, I still had Orrin’s graduation date written on my calendar. I talked to Jason and told him that I would like to launch the website as a graduation gift to Orrin.

Graduation day arrived on April 13 and I called Orrin. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him as happy or proud as he was on the phone that day. I told him about the website launching that weekend and told him to be watching the mail for some business cards that he could use to start promoting his work. 

That evening, Orrin achieved one of his biggest goals and walked across the stage in a graduation ceremony, honoring his recovery from addiction. Ten long, work-filled months had come to an end. Although I was not able to be there in person, I was very proudly there in spirit.  Orrin’s website went live that weekend and I e-mailed him the web address.

I’ve been intending to blog and do an official launch for Orrin’s website the first chance I have (aka this weekend) and have been thinking about how to present this man’s beautiful art to the world.

I got a call this afternoon from Orrin or at least that’s what my caller ID said. However, when I answered the phone it was a woman’s voice.

“Jaysen?”, asked the voice. After responding “Yes,” the woman’s voice went on to say, “ This is Orrin’s girlfriend, Lillian.”

I met Lillian last summer. She sometimes helps Orrin with his personal business, so I figured she was calling with something related to his website. 

“I wanted to call and let you know that Orrin passed away.”

I think I asked her to repeat that phrase and repeated it back myself in the hope that what she said was not possibly true.

It turns out that Orrin had been terminally ill for quite some time. He mentioned to me when we last talked that he had a serious health concern, but I had no idea he was referring to a terminal illness.

The news knocked the air out of me. Though I kept composure on the phone with Lillian, as soon as we hung up, I lost it.

I realized, suddenly, that this man that I had set out to “help” had quickly become a very dear friend that I will miss greatly.

I’ve taken some time this afternoon to think about Orrin and the journey we’ve been on together the past few months. Though extremely sad to lose my friend, I can’t help but smile when I think about the way Orrin ended his life. He conquered his addictions, made peace with his Creator, and finished probably one of the hardest things he ever started. He ended well.

The last phone conversation we had a couple weeks ago on Orrin’s graduation day, was  filled with smiles, laughter, and love. And unbeknownst to me (and probably Orrin at the time), it was filled with closure. I got the opportunity to tell Orrin how proud I am of him for all of his accomplishments and to tell him he was loved.

I am not sure if Orrin ever checked his e-mail and saw his website before he went back into the hospital. But I know that he knew it was going to launch and that he very much wanted to share his creativity with the world.

In honor of Orrin, I would like to go ahead, as planned, and invite you to enjoy his website, orrinjohnsondesign.com. I hope that you will look at his Spacek Art creations and enjoy all of the beautiful details he put into his work. Each of his pieces contain a great deal of symbolism, many depicting the deep faith on which he based the final months of his life. The website has a guest book, so feel free to leave comments.

A special thanks is due to Jason and Mishel Smith, whose website donation was/is a very special investment in a very special person. I think it is beautiful that even though Orrin has passed on, he still remains with us through his work.

Orrin was a seeker. Orrin was a visionary. Orrin will always be a friend.

I love you, Orrin Johnson, and I will always cherish our Tuesday afternoons.

Probably the saddest thing I’ve come across this summer is when men leave the recovery program.

Men losing hope.

Men giving up on their dreams

And ultimately, men giving up on themselves.

I’ve watched so many guys walk out the front door with nothing but a backpack and a lack of faith in themselves.

James, Ricky, Joe, Tony, Heryl, Daniel, Pete, and the list goes on and on.

I remember one morning in July talking to a guy named James while we stood next to each other shaving in the bathroom. I can still hear the hope in his voice as he told me about his past and how he was finally doing something to change. I also remember the morning a week later as I stood at the front desk and tried to talk him out of leaving. I asked James what he wanted to do with his life and he told me that he wanted to be a merchant and own his own business. The next thing I inquired was what he was planning on doing when he left, and he told me that he planned to hustle on the streets. I pleaded with him and told him to stick it out, because things would get easier over time. The last words he said to me before he left were: “I’ve gotta get out of here before you convince me to stay.”

Some nights I’ve gone to bed with someone sleeping in the bed next to me, to wake up in the morning to ruffled sheets without a body between them.

I remember how a guy named Ricky used to inspire me by the way he would encourage those coming into the shelter off the streets. He had such a positive outlook on life and would always smile and say “Good stuff, good stuff” in response to anything encouraging that happened.

And then we woke up one morning and Ricky was gone.

A few weeks later I ran into Ricky and it was far from “good stuff.” The optimist I had previously known was now living a relapsed, drug-influenced existence.

Making it through these recovery programs is not easy. It takes hard work, determination, and self control. The men have to keep each other accountable, because the temptation to return to old habits presents itself on a daily basis. However, although the process is difficult, it is far from impossible, and there are many men who have proven this this summer.

Possibly the most inspiring thing I’ve seen all summer came last week when I attended a graduation ceremony of men who have completed the recovery program at the mission. These guys wore starched shirts and ironed ties underneath their graduation robes and proud smiles of confidence as they each walked into a room full of cheering people. Many of the mens’ families were in attendance—mothers, fathers, wives, children — all so proud to see these men who have completely turned their lives around.

The choir sang joyful choruses and during the last song took the opportunity to meander through the crown and shake peoples’ hands as they sang. Shelter employees spoke encouraging words and told stories of the many successes that brought each man to this victorious occasion.

And then the men got up, one by one, and gave graduation speeches. Many of them expressed how difficult it was to not walk out that front door. And most of them offered words of gratitude to those who wouldn’t let them give up on themselves.

My favorite quote of the evening came from my friend Thurston’s graduation speech.

He stepped up to the podium and said: “I want to take a moment to say thank you. And from my parents — they say thank you. Because through prayers (and I do believe in prayer because of this), prayer does work. We are all here all because people prayed for us. And they didn’t waver. I spoke to my father today and he said, ‘I never stopped praying for you. I never stopped believing in you.’ And with all the setbacks, or so-called setbacks that led me to the mission, I started to see that there is a way. There’s God’s purpose, because He has a purpose for us. For me. And all these setbacks weren’t really setbacks, because I ran into Mr. Martin. I ran into Mr. Caswell. I ran into Mr. Mitchell. And I ran into people of the church and I got baptized at the church. So all these so-called setbacks that He sent me on, weren’t really setbacks at all. They were set-ups.”

This kind of attitude has made all the difference between the men who have walked away defeated and those who have run the race to its end.

These men are ready to face the next chapter in their lives. A chapter of newfound hope and purpose. I am proud of my friends for their diligent work and incredible attitudes. These people inspire me and hopefully you to pursue the seemingly impossible.

As these men embark on the next chapter in their lives, I find that I am also about to begin the next chapter in my own.

Ninety days has come and gone and my time living at the shelter has come to an all-too-soon end.

After much prayer and many long conversations with mentors, family, friends, and even a few homeless guys, I have decided to return to Oklahoma for the next few months and continue teaching and mentoring high school students. It is going to be hard to leave this incredible city and these incredible people, but I know that I am doing what I need to do.

One doesn’t have to go to the largest cities or most impoverished places in the world to make a difference. There is need in our own cities.

Our own neighborhoods.

Our own workplaces.

And our own apartment buildings.

I have three months full of memories that I will never forget. Many of my views about how to help the impoverished have changed, but my initial opinion still stands:

There’s hope in creation.