Profound Fullness, Root Beer, and Fresh Milk

My friend was not always my friend. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t always who he came to be. I don’t even know if I would’ve liked him once upon a time. He left heartache in the wake of his life. There were years of pain. Some dealt to him and some dealt by him. And... He was happy. He carried pain – physical, and one must assume emotional, even though he likely wouldn’t focus on that. Each time we spoke, he mentioned his children or the Lord, or both. He wasn’t chatty, but if he had something to say, his perspective was typically insightful or uplifting, and sometimes just flat funny. I didn’t know him before he had a home. He made friends here. Those friends showed up for him when he was hurting. They guided him with spiritual wisdom and true friendship. They prayed for and with him.

As his life ended, I witnessed the community around him gather at his side to pray, show up with his favorite root beer and fresh milk for his cereal so that he didn’t have to use that gross cup of milk from the cafeteria sitting in his fridge. These are the normal things we do every day for our nearest and dearest.

Over the last couple of years, my eyes have seen a different view of our streets. I’ve witnessed society look down on homelessness with judgment. We don’t always know… I didn’t know. I’ve seen folks I consider friends never want to stretch their minds beyond the confines of stereotype. My heart feels an equal amount of compassion for the person whose circumstances or choices keep them stuck in their own narrow-minded headspace as for the one whose circumstances or choices left them without a home. Equal heartache, if you ask me.

When my friend died, I held hands with the ones that showed up. I held hands with them over the body of our friend, while we prayed gratitude for his life and praise for the release of pain he felt as he entered the arms of his Father. We prayed for his family, and we thanked God for the impact his life had on us.

This work is full. Every day brings a new opportunity to love a human that was crafted in the image of our Creator and Sustainer. Sometimes the opportunity is inconvenient. Most times the opportunity is inconvenient. Without a heart willing to work “as unto the Lord,” our labors would fall flat.

What feels most important to me is this: Every life has value. We hurt people and people hurt us. But God will align stories and lives in such a unique way that we are incapable of seeing anything without recognizing His profound goodness.

That word feels full. Profound. Around here, we say that the most significant cause of homelessness is the profound and catastrophic loss of family. What a blessing to witness the profound healing that comes through community, and through the love of a Creator who works all things together for good, for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.