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THINKING ABOUT the past was just a waste of time; just about as much as thinking about the possibilities of the future.

The mountain of horrible things I had done could not be undone.

The reasons leading up to my actions still confused me; why did my dad have to be such an asshole?

Things could have easily been so much different.

I missed my mom every day. Her words of how to be a good man never left my thoughts, but I couldn’t imagine a way I would be able to improve someone else's life. It took all I had to keep my own life moving forward. All I could do was ask for forgiveness and pray that one day I'd have peace. Which didn’t make sense when I thought about it because I didn’t believe in God. Not anymore.

It dawned on me how I’d never done anything good; never helped anyone when they needed it.

Everything in my life revolved around my needs.

The more time I had to think about it, the more it bothered me.

If I had found a job and made something of myself, I wouldn't be in this situation.

I wouldn't be relying on drugs and liquor for a reprieve to life in general which I used as a reason to continue down the path of destruction.

I knew it was wrong, but this was an incredibly difficult time; I had literally nothing to look forward to. The pills took away the physical pain and the whiskey removed my ability to give a shit. It was my way of escaping.

Some of the guys in the camp did more than take pills and drink whiskey. Most of them abused meth because it was cheap and readily available. From what they told me, the high lasted for hours. They could forget about their worries and just be.

Sitting in a lawn chair all day, doing absolutely nothing, certainly not anything productive, had not been any better than walking around looking for work. Nothing ever came from either activity. Life passed by a little more with every semi which rumbled above us on I-45.

Dennis and Felix made a few dollars a day at street corners, but I didn’t want to beg. I still had a very little amount of money left and I thought about looking for a place to work. Doing the right thing appealed to me, but motivation was hard to come by.

If I could just gather enough cash to get another motel, I could take a shower every day.

I’d rather be broke with water than have a couple dollars and be dirty.

My hair had grown out of control, and I couldn’t remember the last time I shaved.

Probably in Alaska. Felix didn’t seem to mind, but he stayed high all day, so whatever had plagued him in the past didn’t bother him anymore.

Somehow, though, the minute I opened my eyes, I could feel something was going to be different today. Storm clouds kept the sun from reaching us, but the day held a promise of sorts.

The camp of homeless men didn't usually come alive until after noon; most of the time the statistic included me. I fought through my hangover because I felt like I deserved to feel the repercussions of my actions.

Random passers-by typically didn't slow down as they approached the camp; they sped up and ignored our bodies lying in an open grave. This lifestyle is, in general, the end for most people. Our tents acted as a makeshift coffin.

A clean-shaven man with dark hair and glasses looked out of place as he and a friend with a mustache slowed in front of our camp. If it had been raining, I would’ve understood the need for them to wait under the bridge until it passed. I didn't expect these guys to approach anyone .

When they greeted the one person most of us stayed away from, I held my breath. Known as Crazy, because that’s what someone labeled him a long time ago, his off-color actions and out of place outbursts fit the nickname. I think his real name may have been Bob.

Mustache offered Crazy his hand in greeting. After he inspected it from afar, Crazy accepted it and squinted. I couldn't quite make out what Mustache said to him, but when Crazy bowed his head, I knew it must have been something impactful. Crazy hadn’t been known as accepting.

Offering his new friends a dirty lawn chair, Crazy invited the men into his sacred space, then he waved to me and invited me to join them. Most likely because I had been watching the interaction.

Three other men had observed the strangers and joined us around the firepit. I woke Felix and pulled him with me; this person may be offering jobs. Or money.

We all brought our own chairs and formed a small circle. Crazy introduced Andrew and Chad to eight residents of the camp and sat beside me.

Anxiety filled my chest like I was late for something or had somewhere to go. I almost wanted to leave but talked myself into staying. What else did I have to do? The rest of the crowd leaned forward, ready to discover why these men had stopped.

A voice full of joy and kindness reached my ears when the man with a mustache spoke. His love for life was evident in his expression and stance.

“Hi, guys. My name is Andrew. My friend here is Chad. We came out here today to pray with you.” He held up a bible. “We’re offering the love of Jesus.”

Underwhelmed, I rolled my eyes and almost got up.

Seriously, to ask God to help us, as if was going to help, sounded ridiculous.

I had asked God to help me throughout my entire childhood and nothing ever happened.

Would it even be worth sticking around to hear what these yahoos had to say?

Probably not. There had been no reason for me to believe such a being even existed.

One of the other guys did stand up and Andrew said, “It's okay if you wanna leave.

I understand not everybody wants to hear about Jesus and not everybody wants to accept that people like Chad and myself are out here praying for you.

If you just give me five minutes, I just want to let you know we are here.

And we're thinking of you and want to support you. I would like to take a moment to say some words on your behalf. Would you let me do that for you?”

I knew it was all bullshit, but they also brought food.

It wouldn’t be right to take the food without listening to their speech.

I decided I probably had enough time left in my day to sit and listen about this Jesus character, even though it went against everything I had learned about the world over the past few years.

“What’s your name, sir?” Andrew nodded in my direction. I turned to see if anyone was standing behind me.

“Jake.” I wasn’t about to let this stranger break through my walls; he didn’t know my story and I didn’t like his reason for intruding.

“Jake. It’s nice to meet you.” He recognized my resistance and relaxed his shoulders. “Would you mind if I told a story about finding Jesus?”

I shrugged. “Isn’t that why you’re here? Go ahead and waste your breath. I’m only here for the food.”

“Help yourself, we brought enough for everyone.”

It would have pissed me off if he smiled and acted like he was doing me a favor. Instead, he made me feel like I was doing him a favor by listening to what he had to say. Maybe that’s how he got to be so chipper, by offering helpful words that others could learn from if they just listened.

Chad stepped forward with scissors in his hand. “We’re also offering a haircut and shave to anyone who would like one. We can talk and work at the same time if that’s okay.”

Crazy raised his hand. “Can I be first?”

Armed with a spray bottle and comb, Chad wrapped a cape around Crazy’s neck and sprayed his hair with water .

“I grew up in an angry household,” Andrew said.

“Even though I thought it was normal, I learned later how my childhood wasn’t healthy.

” Andrew shared his life story with the group and through his openness, I understood we weren’t all that different.

He had been abused, too, and watched his parents’ tumultuous relationship fail.

Of course, the one major difference was he had not murdered his dad.

AN AFTERNOON full of food, cold water, and nice people had been a good change of pace. Twelve of us got haircuts and a shave; my spirit rose just from getting clean.

Andrew pulled Felix and me to the side for a personal conversation. “There’s a place in Tennessee called Second Chances. It’s a sort of rehab for homeless people who are really trying to get back on their feet.”

He paused and waited for others to pass. “I only recommend it for those who I feel have a really good shot at renewing their life. The two of you seem like you’re just in a rut and you want to get out of this lifestyle.”

I nodded.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes. You are.” I admitted. “As resistant as I started out, your words really resonated with me today. I want to thank you, again for spending time with us, for making it a point to reach some lost souls.”

“If y’all want to make some serious changes, get to Tennessee. Take a bus, hop on a train, just get there. It's a tiny home community founded by a previously homeless drug addict, dedicated to helping those who want to help themselves.”

Although Tennessee sounded like a great way to start over, I knew what I needed to do. Alaska had been calling for me from the minute I left. I’ve heard her whisper in the wind but chose to ignore the pull. Until today. Dallas was not my home and would not be able to move forward here.

Mom blew my now clean hair from my eyes, confirming my desire. Or was that just the wind?