George Floyd was my friend.
We met while I was making my rounds as a volunteer chaplain. The Salvation Army Harbor Lights is a regular stop on my route. Floyd (I knew him as Floyd) was in a situation attempting to extract an inebriated guest from the building. He was new, and it did not go well … for Floyd. After he moved the gentleman out of the building, Floyd and I spent time together, one on one, discussing the event, sharing our histories, crying and praying together.
Our friendship was born.
Although his employment at Harbor Lights ended, I would see Floyd there, hanging around, visiting with the staff and guests, often with a kind word, an encouragement, or a funny story to share. He seemed to love to be among "the least of these" (as Jesus said). His escape from his hometown was to provide a geographic cure for his struggles, and the time he spent at Harbor Lights was salve on his wounded heart.
We did not spend as much time together as I now wish we had. Our encounters, except for a few, were brief — maybe 10 or 15 minutes. On a few occasions, as noted above, we went deep. Based on the time we shared, I would describe Floyd as:
• A big man (physically, you could not miss that).
• A giver. Floyd had a huge heart and held the world with a loose grip.
• A fighter. He was plagued with the same struggles many of us share, and he pushed against those desires, sometimes losing the battle, but he never stopped fighting.
