Today I am grateful for my glasses – may they rest in pieces :o)

In 2011 I was homeless. Cocoa - Furby - Honey

Me and my two large dogs lived about 2 months in a parking lot, in a car that didn’t run.

When I was homeless, one of my biggest fears, and there were a LOT of them, but one of my biggest fears was breaking my glasses.

EVERY – SINGLE – TIME that I dropped my glasses and they DIDN’T break, the relief and gratitude that washed over me was indescribable.

Such a GIFT I had been given, each time that my glasses did not break. — If you can’t really see, how do you go on to even the next MINUTE of your life? How do you even go about walking into a 7-11 to go to the bathroom without your glasses, much less go about finding a way to get them fixed or replaced with no money? Every time I bumped them or dropped them, I held my breath. And every time, they didn’t break.

And every time I was SO, VERY, VERY GRATEFUL 😀

I am currently grateful and blessed to have a temporary place to live.

And even now, when I drop my glasses, I hold my breath, but the terror is not there. And I am very grateful for that.

. . . This morning, in my temporary kitchen, I took off my glasses, washed my face and decide to wipe my lenses with the damp towel that I dried my face with, and the metal frame of my glasses gently snapped in my hands, and the lens fell out.

It was like an old friend ‘passing’ quietly in my arms. A friend who has had my back for years, without faltering or abandoning me. My glasses have been like a fellow soldier in my war against my own homelessness. Their good job is now done and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for their ‘service’.

I am so grateful that they stayed strong for me when I needed them most.
And the torch will be passed.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

A Baby’s Hug

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, ‘Hi.’ He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.. ‘Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya,’ the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks.

Erik continued to laugh and answer, ‘Hi.’  Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, ‘Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo?’

Nobody thought the old man was cute. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. ‘Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me,’ I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s ‘pick-me-up’ position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder. The man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.

I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, ‘You take care of this baby.’

Somehow I managed, ‘I will,’ from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, ‘God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift.’

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, ‘Please God, forgive me.’

I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, ‘Are you willing to share your son for a moment?’ when He shared His for all eternity. How did God feel when he put his baby in our arms 2000 years ago.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, ‘To enter the Kingdom of God , we must become as little children.’

Your true self is not the clothes on your back, or the car you drive, it is how you treat your fellow man that identifies who you are.

This one is a keeper.