Light Inside a Homeless Man

I asked Jerry where he lives.
His face brightened.
"On the street" he beamed, "or on the beach"

Lets go back a bit....
I have seen Jerry cleaning in the park. I have seen him sweeping and picking up trash. And I have seen him taking a little nap on a park bench. I thought he worked for the town.
He doesn't.
He just likes things to be clean.

I met him in the street today. He was pushing a shopping cart filled with an old broom and dust pan, an old lamp, a fan, and a back pack. He was carrying a small package in his hand and I was surprised when he showed me what was inside. A new wheel for his shopping cart. It cost $3.50.

He didn't ask for any money. But he did tell me how he was going to fix the lamp and fix the fan.

And then there was the Bible in his pocket.

When I asked him about it, his eyes lit up. Just like they did when I asked him where he lived.

Odd thing. Did you know Jesus was homeless? He said, "Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of man has no place to lay his head" Matt 8:20

I try to keep my eyes open. I try to see what the universe has each day for me to learn. Today I learned that it is possible to have your eyes light up when you speak of your homelessness.

I wonder if my eyes light up when I speak of where I live.

Embracing Discomfort,

Laura

Comments

Why I Am Here: The Beauty in the Poor Places

I don't write about myself very often, but this time I just want to share a little bit. I want to tell you why I am here. I have been in Central America for five years now. I came on vacation and never went home. Something happened to me that is hard to explain. I walked streets I wasn't sure were safe. I went places I wasn't sure I would come back from. I got really far out of my comfort zone. And in the most unlikely places, I found life. Now I understand why Jesus ate with the prostitutes and drunkards. Why he went to the lost and the broken. They are actually cool people! You cannot imagine how amazing it was to hear their stories, to feel their pain and share their joy, to meet their families and get to know their names. I wish I could explain to you the beauty I see. I wish I could take the feeling that swells inside me and put it in your heart. I am without words, and so I try to convey in pictures the depth I see in their eyes the joy in the e...

Making Connections in Mexico

I spent some time in the little village of Leona Vicario, about an hour inland from Puerto Morelos on the Yucatan Peninsula. Quaint place. I bought a tamale from an old woman. and I bought fresh orange juice from a sweet old man. I stopped in at the tortilla factory and bought a small stack of still hot tortillas, right off the press. I watched a lady cut up chicken for her customers. She had a lovely smile. And I spent some time talking to two guys who worked at the fruit and veggie stand. The older man let me touch his Rosary and the younger practiced his English with me. I just love connections. Doing a happy dance, laura www.povertyprojectinternational.com

Death and Hope in Golondrina: A Displaced Family in Bocas Del Toro, Panama

Maria and her baby brother used to live next door along with the rest of the seven people in their family. They had a little house with running water and electricity, a privilege many do not have in this community. But several days ago all seven of them were asked to leave their home because they could not pay the rent. They stood outside my house, hearts broken, a few simple things in bags, and said they planned to live in the parking lot at the bank. There was a policeman there and a wide over hang on the building, so it was a good place to sleep. This is the house out behind my house in rural Panama. Both homes belong to a lovely older woman named Shirley. She is tall and dark with high cheekbones. She wears her silver hair in a bun and always dresses in skirts and she has the mostly lovely Jamaican yah-mon English. Shirley is a woman acquainted with sadness. She lost her soul-mate, the husband of her youth, when she was in her twenties and became a widow. She lost two mo...

Poverty Project International Stories

Search This Blog