I cannot get in to my house. It is tied up in some legal issues, and I have no rights to the property until the issues are settled.
I have a place to live; I have wonderful friends who have welcomed me into their home.
But this experience of having no "home" has made me realize the significance of homelessness. I cannot get checks for my bank account because I have no address. Without the checks, I cannot pay my bills. I cannot change my driver's license without an address, and without the license I cannot change my plates, which will expire in less than 2 weeks.
And everything I do is in borrowed space.
When I lie down to rest, it is in someone else's bed.
When I drink of the water, it is from someone else's cup.
I did not realize until recently how critical it is to have a place to call home.
It is changing my perspective on ministry to those who are legitimately homeless.
Ministry to these is more than a warm meal and a dry bed.
It is recognizing the lost identity that comes without an address.
It is a lonely place to be homeless, even in my sense.
I cannot begin to fathom how it must be for those for whom the homelessness appears to have no end.
My heart hurts for them.