This morning I received an email from my dear friend Becky. In it she said that I inspired her to write this poem below. I sat there with tears in my eyes and completely humbled. I feel like she put into words feelings I don’t think I could properly convey. Becky is leaving for Kenya in 2 days. Check out her blog here and if you feel led to support her financially, go here.
For a year I was a hobo
My life was on my shoulders
I had no place to call my own
My home
I used to
I used to have my own resting place
My own privacy and space
I used to have comforts galore
Not this year
Over night I became a dependent
Unknowns surrounded me
Comforts were stripped away from me
I became unwillingly vulnerable and naked
Alone
Loneliness, what a filthy lie
I wasn’t alone
They were on the streets of life with me
I saw their faces
They looked like me
Broken, lonely, exposed, sick, dying
In need
Time changed me
Circumstances and life shaped me
The world started to look differently
I began to see it
His people!
The resemblance was uncanny
I knew them
Every face, every movement
They looked like the One I love
Their image was His without a question
My Abba, their Father
I met them
In the brokeness of my life
I met the dependents of the world
They were breathtaking
The dependents?
I am one of them
My home
What home?
I am a hobo
My home is where He leads me
My home is in the uncomfortable moments He provides
In the miraculous He creates
In the provision of His mighty hands
My home?
I’m not home yet
I am a hobo.
