“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.