There are nights when I come home from the shelter and I feel as though I am in the wrong place. I pull into my driveway as if going to a strangers home. Open the front door as if I am housesitting. Walk through the rooms on the main level calculating how many people could be sheltered for a night. Envisioning cooking a family dinner for all, hearing the musical noise of laughter and conversation, hearing the heartbeat of prayer through thanksgiving and petition. It seems eerily quiet. I feel absurd and extravagant. I want to get back in my car and drive back to the shelter. I miss the ladies already, I miss their children. I want to sit and talk about nothing and everything.
The whole ride home tonight I thought about the things I didn't say. I prayed before I walked into the shelter tonight, Lord give me the words you would have me say. Either God didn't have much to say or I didn't listen well. But it is my first night back at this particular shelter in awhile, all new faces, all new stories. They don't know me yet, not sure if they want to know me, not sure who I am or what I might be to them. It felt like coming home. It felt real to sit and watch the news with some of them and every story was tied into the current economic situation. Every woman in that room understands the reality of the economic situation much more than the person reading the script on tv.
Have you ever made the comment, "I feel like I live in my car!" or "Don't mind my messy car I have been living in it lately." I have made that comment - especially on weeks where I truly am nothing more than a shuttle service or activity bus. I make the comment in jest and absentminded. I was reminded of that comment tonight as I walked into the shelter and I passed the cars of the guests. I know homeless people who have cars and they store all their valuables in their car - they don't want them stolen in the shelter. But I also know homeless people who live in their cars. One car tonight told the story of a life. She couldn't have crammed one more item in the car. All her possessions in this world are in that car - her most precious possession and love recently had been sleeping in that car.
Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live in your vehicle? Where do you park for the night? Where is it safe from crime? Where is it safe from the authorities who might arrest you for trespassing? Do you really sleep or are you on high alert? What about the bathroom? Where do you clean up and get ready for your day? In the heat how do you stay cool? In the cold how do you stay warm? What if you have kids? Where do they do their homework? How do you wash their clothes? Can you keep any food? I recently read a newspaper article about a family of 6 living in their minivan. Where they lived there were no family shelters and they didn't want to be separated - not now, when they had lost everything, all they have is each other and they didn't want to lose that too. I worked with a family last year who ended up homeless, living in their car. You see when they became homeless they had a beloved pet cat - you can't bring your pet into the shelter. To get a spot in the shelter they had to give their cat up for adoption. They decided to keep their cat and live in their car, once a week if they could they would stay in a motel for the night so they could shower and wash clothes and sleep laying down.
How do you get mail? Where do you keep your birth certificate safe? How much gas do you need? What do you do to pass the time? How would you entertain your children? What if you have a medical condition that requires electricity?
One of my daughters this weekend complained to me that she has the smallest room, no bigger than a closet she said. She was quite distraught and trying to figure out how to get siblings to move around so she could exchange rooms. I almost could not even partake of the conversation with her because all I could think about was the story of the little girl who glowed with pride over her new bedroom. You see she had been living in her car and her mother was finally able to get into a 1 bedroom apartment. This little girls' new bedroom was the closet in the one bedroom. Her bed was a sleeping bag on the floor and she had two books and her baby doll placed proudly near her "bed". She took pride in her "room" and in her mother for providing it for her. Oh the painful dichotomy! Where is the true Joy? The child who has so much she doesn't realize what she has or the child who knows what little she has is so much more than she can ask or imagine?
It brings back the imagery of our hands - when our hands are full we can not grasp anything more, when are hands are empty they can be filled with abundance. With full hands we still try to grasp and hold on and things fall out and we fall to our knees to try and grab the items. When our hands are empty we realize how light and burden free we are and we are amazed how how much can be gathered into our arms and if we fall to our knees it is in Thanksgiving to the One who provides.
Tonight I am a stranger in my house, carrying with me in my heart each woman and child who finds safety in the shelter tonight. I open my outstretched hands and offer up to the Lord my prayers for them knowing that God will answer my prayers as may be best for each woman and the family that she represents. I pray in thanksgiving for this home that would fit many and I ask forgiveness for the fact that I only house my family tonight. If you ever find yourself breaking the commandment do not covet your neighbors house, spend an evening at the shelter. Your evening of service will open your eyes to the abundant life you live and you will praise God from whom all blessings flow!
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