Knowing

homeless

I have no way of knowing what it is like to be homeless.

I've never been without a home.

I've lived through the experience of being cast out, disowned, and shunned by my family of origin; and even though I know what it's like to be all alone in the world, I've never lacked a physical place to call my own.

When I look at the photo above, a simple black and white photo of some nameless, homeless person in New York City, I recognize myself. Not literally of course. I'm not literally that person, but I recognize the posture, the slouch, the bowed head.

I know the vertigo that comes with finding one's self completely dispossessed of all relationship, all love, all hope. I know what drives a full grown person to sit in a public space and lean their weary self against a wall. I know what it is to cry hot tears that sear and scorch but offer little healing....

I know...

I really know...

Oh, how I know....

....and for better or worse, it's this kind of "knowing" that makes me the person I am.

Only recently have I begun to understand that it is the experience of living through my own suffering that allows me to recognize, to empathize and to offer succour to others in their suffering.

Today, if only for this moment, I am grateful for what I have suffered and survived. It has made me a better person....a more compassionate and merciful person.

Thank you Father God for being greater than my own suffering and for redeeming what should have laid this soul to waste.

Thank you.