To dwell within your heart
is more than just a way;
mesmerized by your kiss
is where I long to stay.
Oh, that I could be there,
always, in living never err.
Enveloped in your perfume
is to abide without despair.
Never do I want to leave;
parting is to grieve.
When separation is not believed,
Truth, Beauty and Joy is all I perceive.
“I could be homeless here.”
I overheard this statement while sitting on the beach at Horseshoe Bay, Bermuda.
Yes, the setting was breathtaking—nay awe inspiring . . . pale-pink, silky sand . . . turquoise and aqua shades of ocean water . . . diamond blue sky . . . puffy white cumulous clouds languidly suspended . . . gleaming sunshine.
I, too, could imagine myself homeless here in this brief instant of seeming perfection.
However, in the face of the harsh realities of homelessness, this statement sounded glib and thoughtless.
Perhaps he, like me, was offering it up as praise in thanks for God’s abundance, in a setting of abundance and from a perspective of abundance.
Could there be something deeper and more meaningful in this garden-of-eden frame of mind? What lesson could be learned from what appears as uninformed, unrealistic idealism?
We came into this world with nothing and will leave with nothing. Yet many of us (myself included) sometimes live as if all the possessions we collect along the way are more important than the souls with whom we share the journey.
I had missed my regular Wednesday of volunteering at the foodbank one week. Upon my return, Ricky—a JCCM regular, greeted me with a delighted, “Hi stranger.”
I felt over the moon! I had been accepted into the tribe and felt a part of something much larger, grander and elegant than all my worldly goods combined; more beautiful than Xanadu.
If this is homelessness . . . living now, seeing Christ, knowing we are all in this together, trusting the Divine, then I can live here, where my heart is, in Him.
Today at the food-bank five out of the seven clients that we served were homeless.
This isn’t the voluntary hippie-on-the-road homeless or the Great-Depression-riding-the-rails-looking-for-a-job homeless. These folks have no other options—whatever the reason that brought them to this point in their lives.
With literally nothing but the clothes on their backs and maybe a backpack or small bag of “supplies,” they come in seeking one of the basic necessities of life—food.
One woman had just gotten out of the hospital and all she asked for was some juice and “cleansing food.” Another requested “just some fruit.” Two were “camping” and one was a diabetic requiring protein. We usually give them a one-day supply because they have no way to store or cook it, and since they are “walkers” carrying large amounts of anything is an additional hardship.
These kinds of orders are the most challenging to fill yet the most rewarding!
Challenging because of the many unknowns—can opener, means of cooking, utensils, water supply? You know—all those things that many of us take for granted—just walk into your kitchen, open all the cabinets and drawers and look at all the appliances, dishes, utensils, pots/pans and modern conveniences . . . then imagine not having any of it—much less the home itself.
Rewarding because they are generally the most truly grateful people I have ever met—not only grateful, but kind, humble, compassionate and grit-filled. They serve to remind me repeatedly of one truth none of us can avoid—we came into this world with nothing and will leave with nothing.
Can there be no greater purpose in life, then, to love and serve one another?
Could this be what Jesus meant when he said,
“Do not store up for yourselves wealth here on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and burglars break in and steal. Instead, store up for yourselves wealth in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and burglars do not break in or steal. For where your wealth is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19-21
A new Facebook friend shared on her timeline “We are all just walking each other home,” a truth that seems to be arising out of and through the meeting up of teachings like Buddhism and Christianity.
How deeply profound . . . walking each other home . . . and while we’re at it “maybe we can hold each other’s hand.” S.C.