"Trembling"

Mario couldn´t remember when was the last time someone had asked him for his name. So many people passed by him every day but no one would stop to talk to him.

The white man´s question, standing in front of him in the middle of the street, wanting to know his name, added shaking to the trembling he´d been living with for the last. . . When did it start? He couldn´t remember.

Maybe it had been that night when his body was shaking so much and he thought it was the cold. Every time he´d think, “Oh, now I´m my getting over the cold . . . I´m getting used to it”, some more would come to make his bones hurt.

Though he didn´t care much about seasons coming or going, the winter had been always the hardest to survive or . . . was it the spring turning him invisible to humanity?

He couldn´t say. During the winter season, the people´s heart seemed to become warm and compassionate enough to look at him, but . . . never in the eye. Some food and blankets were the most frequent gifts, still, never a hug or at least a hand to shake.

Mario knows why. He looks filthy and sometimes he thinks he´ll end up looking like and old tree, covered with a rough dirty skin and . . . the smell, the rotten smell he can´t even notice anymore. But showers are for those who have homes, neat places where they gather with their family and that´s some story other people have. No, homes are not for him since he´s a “street boy”; he´s always been. “Street” is his home´s name. And now he can´t be called a boy, not anymore. He didn´t even know his own age but for sure he was old enough to lose his teeth and feel his face shrivel like the grass on the street.

For him, even with its warm air, the spring was a cold season. The emotions are gone and there are no more blankets or food, just the cold faces turning away from him, the homeless.

Mario can feel his heart tremble through his skin when he remembers last spring. That spring was different as he experienced the first touch of a fresh clean hand holding his, and because of that friendly shake he could finally stop the shake of his hand to hold the white man´s hand.

That strange visitor looked directly into his eyes and asked him many questions. The stranger noticed his body shivering and he mentioned some weird name for it. So, it wasn´t the cold! Neither the effect of the being “high” so often! This shaking had a name. The stranger had come to see it and, the weirdest thing, he seemed to care.

Even when the white man´s visits are never announced, Mario likes to think he and his friends will come over someday and talk to him. But that morning, it was not just about talking. The night before had been a nightmare and Mario desperately thought he needed help!

The torture began when those guys wanted to have fun and thought Mario was a good candidate to harass, slim as a street dog, shaky, and with those lost eyes. A typical homeless, the perfect target for their wicked games! Nobody would care if something happened to him so they beat him, laughed, and beat him some more. 

Fear, pure fear was added to the coldness of helplessness, his head hurting and blood covering his face blinded his eyes until the black whole swallowed him slowly. . . Was he in hell or just been thrown as in a wormhole where his body would rest with no one to notice?

Those people he had called “family” for some time, soul streets like him, had dragged him out from the wicked claws and did what they knew best, they begged. For hours they begged the people at the hospitals to take care of Mario´s wounds just to be rejected again and again. But good “partners” are to try again, so they kept looking for someone to heal his bleeding head. Finally they did and Mario stopped shaking in fear. He was alive!

The next day, morning began with no food or drugs to ease the pain. That same day the white guy and some friends came to his home under the highway.

“He´s been asking for you” one of his friends said and took him to where they were.

Too many questions and Mario tried to nod. He wasn´t high, it was the pain in his head, covered with bandages that made it difficult. They were there for him and that was the only thing that mattered. They shook hands with him and he saw they cared. Or was it simply his need to feel that someone cared for him?

Mario saw them leaving and he feared they would not come back. “Do I wait for you here?” Mario asked. “Hold on, Mario, we´ll be back soon” they replied. And there he stayed, rattling, a little bit less, but his eyes kept watching them walking across the street as if he could retain his friends with the sight.

They came back with boxes with medicine, water and instructions he couldn´t follow. The instructions were not as important as the shelter leader was there talking and trying to figure out schedules for Mario´s medications.

Then the question came and Mario listened, trying to keep his mind held enough to listen carefully as the missionary spoke:

“Do you think you were in risk of dying last night, Mario?”

Mario nodded. Yes, the pain of those shoes hitting his head came to his mind.

“What do you think would have happened to you if you had died last night my friend?”

His face was pale and his heart pumped under the tight bandage.

“Don´t know where I´d be” Mario said, almost on a whisper.

“You wouldn´t be in Heaven, for sure and hell is a real place, my friend.”

He looked to no place, maybe searching in his memory for his worst time in life to understand what hell meant.

A small circle had been formed around Mario. Some of his street partners tried to follow the conversation while silent prayers were said by the group of believers that joined the missionary.

“Do you realize you could be dead, Mario? Is it hell where you want to go to?” the missionary asked, slow enough to let his words go deep on the conscience of the wounded man. “Or is it Heaven where you want to be for eternity and join your heavenly Father?

“I don´t want to go to hell, I don´t” Mario responded.

“Today you´re alive, Mario, but you don´t know if that´s the case tomorrow. Do you want to assure a place in Heaven? There is a way you can. You need to confess you sins and repent. God says that if you repent and accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, you´ll be with the Father in Heaven for eternity. Do you want to do accept Jesus Christ today?” the Missionary asked.

Mario´s friend, a new Christian, encouraged him putting his hand on his back. He´d done that prayer, not too long ago and his eyes looked at him anxiously. Maybe he hadn´t understood the whole meaning of his decision but, one thing was clear to him, he wouldn´t go to hell when he died.

Word by word, the missionary led shaky Mario into his first prayer while everyone bowed their heads to pray with him, silently, tears falling over their cheeks while they asked God to receive this new brother into His family.

Hugs and praises happened when the decision was worded.

“You try to read your Bible, Mario or spend some time with your friend. He can read it for you” the missionary recommended. And the new saved homeless man smiled. God´s people shuddered along with Mario. They accomplished the call and God had been glorified in Heaven and earth.

It was time for everyone to leave and questions arose with those new to the group experiencing that kind of encounter for the first time.

-What happens now? Where to go from here? Was a miracle on the way for Mario? Would he be healed to stop his illness or get out of the street or break free from drugs?

The peace in mind came to them when one answer was clear: The real miracle had already happened. Mario would be in Heaven eternally because, now, he was saved.

Based on a real story of salvation. "Relentless Pursuit"