Homelessness Is
Homelessness is shock from trauma. Like being in a car, riding along, laughing, singing—and a sudden blinding light that over takes your field of vision.
Homelessness is a sudden head on collision.
Unexpected.
Homelessness is the sands of your life and heart: shattering.
Homelessness is the mess everywhere and the bleeding.
It is a numbness, a stupor of thoughts that I can’t quite make sense of.
Homelessness is: Grief.
Homelessness is trying to wait on God for safe people.
Homelessness is looking for safe places to process it all: to speak, release, and find healing. And trying to do so there are still many microscopic pieces everywhere.
Homelessness is learning to be comfortable in discomfort.
Homelessness is having humility continually—receiving and giving, but only parts of you or what you can, or are able to.
Homelessness is an ocean of vision — seeing life, people, and places anew.
It is finding God’s treasures that are only visible in the the darkness.
It’s finding your voice and helping others understand what you, yourself are still learning.
Homelessness is now beginning to settle and be actually grateful, not for Perhaps, but in Everything—Because Jesus has used homeless to transform me, make me strong out of weakness, and to give me a heart to wash the feet of those hurting—bringing comfort to others even as He washes mine and comforts me.
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Y'all have the hearts of lions!