"Out of the Wreck I Rise"

"Rightly or wrongly, we are where we are, exactly in the condition we are in" -- Oswald.

And sometimes -- oftentimes -- that condition is of our own making.

This is true (90 percent of the time) for the homeless men and women in the Mission's shelters where I work. Generally speaking, people do not become homeless because they lose employment in the midst of otherwise put-together lives. They become homeless because they run from what they cannot face. They choose drugs or alcohol or toxic relationships over the hard thing bearing down on them, the hard thing that makes life seem pointless or too excruciatingly painful to endure, and in the process, they neglect first one responsibility -- a job -- and then another -- bills, health, children . . .

But the point is, the same is true for me. I choose to escape into food or movies or books -- particularly anything romantic. (Let me be Elizabeth Bennett for the afternoon -- hotly pursued by a wealthy, handsome man who simply cannot live without her.) My condition is not as bad as it could be because I have a multi-layered support system. Homeless people do not. And I was raised in a stable, two-parent home -- not perfect -- but absent of abuse and complete with food, clothing, shelter and all the love of which my parents were capable. Most homeless people were not.

I was forced to come to terms with the essential similarities between myself and the people about whom I write for work in March of this year. I interviewed Patricia. Of her four children, she had custody of one. She had five felony convictions for organized retail theft. Her former boyfriend had been convicted of murder, and she was held as a material witness in his trial. Apparently, she had cleaned the blood out of his car for $20. She chose to stay in jail for a year -- not really certain how her son was being cared for or by whom -- rather than risk betraying dangerous people.

As I attempted to write about her fresh start, I found myself struggling with whether or not she deserved it, whether or not I believed her, whether or not I could forgive her enough to write about her. And, in the middle of one sleepless night, God seemed to be saying, "If there is to be grace and forgiveness for you, you must allow grace and forgiveness for Patricia."

". . . the odds are all against God's character." I find that an intriguing phrase. And this one, "Logic is silenced."

Isn't a big part of my problem trying to define God's character on my terms? Trying to use human logic to measure God's plans? Trying to be good enough for God . . . and knowing -- KNOWING -- that I am not.

Rightly or wrongly -- mostly wrongly -- I am where I am, exactly in the condition I am in. Save me, God.