An older guy who smelled like BO and loneliness took a seat next to me at on the bird-poop covered park bench. I asked his name, and his gaze pierced my eyes. He asked me my name, and bluntly said, “You aren’t from New York, are you? You looked me in the eye.”
I laughed a little, but he continued, not missing a beat, “Do you have a family?”
“Yeah… I mean… yanno… I have a mom, a dad, and two sisters,” I nodded.
He gave me a desperate look, “What are their names?”
“Pardon?”
He did not flinch, “What are their names? What are they like?”
After mumbling some cursory things about sibling squabbles and receiving wise advice from wonderful parents, my curiosity got the best of me, “Why?”
“I… I dunno…” He sighed with honesty, “I guess … I miss my family and… hearing about yours makes me… miss them less…”
Even though I had this conversation 11 years ago, the look in his eyes still haunts me.
For a guy that was homeless, I feel like in that one moment, we both were connected. It felt like home.
Ever since Jesus wrecked my life that year in New York, I find myself caring about things for the sake trying to protect that feeling of “home”.
I get really sick of guys whistling at my lady friends.
It bugs the crap out of me that I can make an elderly person’s day by talking to them like a human being.
I throw up a little whenever I look in a trash can and think that some kids would kill to rummage for a breakfast of half eaten cheese burgers in the garbage.
I still get disturbed to hear “My parents are still together” is unusual.
While I did know these things happened before I went out, I preferred to be numb. I just wanted to stay in my bubble, borrow someone’s iPhone, and stare at the screen until the world disappeared.
But eventually, the phone batteries will die. My old laptop (that I’m very grateful for) will break. Then I’m left to the relationships that I’ve made day to day and blessings that I can’t control. Without technology, I really cherish having ridiculous conversations with the cashier at the local Texaco every morning.
I notice that dress my co-worker is wearing really looks good on her.
I look down and notice almost everything I am currently wearing was given to me for free.
That annoying song “The Fox” makes me realize how preposterous my life can be and how singing it with another friend can make us laugh. (Fair warning, it’s the dumbest song ever.)
I appreciate how I have known my currently group of friends for almost 2 years now and it feels like we’ve grown up together.
While I do miss my biological family across the country, I live with another family through faith. I have fallen in love with this community. And that love makes me see how big of a family I have.
My home is here, wherever the body of Christ resides,
all around the world.
My homies and I hittin’ it freestyle.
This happens when you get way too comfortable.
