Most of the year, I’ve lived in a little caravan (or camper, as we say at home) behind the house I originally planned to live in. When no rooms were available the landlady offered me the caravan at a very low price. I also spent a total of four weeks in New Zealand. One of them I lived in a motel. Another two in a very nice room at a family’s home. The fourth in the prayer room of the OMS NZ office. I returned to Melbourne to spend a couple of weeks house sitting closer to the city, then just last week returned to the place I’d first come to – this time living in the house, not a caravan.
In every place, I’ve had a moment. Stretching out, staring up at the sky through a window, I’ve been choked up. I can’t believe that God would give me a place to live. I know that might seem simple, or emotional. A place to live, for most of us, seems the most basic of needs. Of course I would have somewhere to stay, right? But I have realized that I am grateful to Him for every thing I have. When I go to the grocery store I’m so thankful that He’s given me food that I grow a little giddy. When I come back to my caravan, or my room, or my borrowed house, or the prayer room with a temporary bed, I always have a moment of bubbly giggles. God gave this to me. I think. He loves me.
Last summer in Indianapolis, some friends and I spent time praying with men and women living on the streets of the city. We offered them food, prayed with them, and heard their stories. I realized that there is no difference between me and the couple who were trying to make it home, a few states away. We both want to get Home. The woman who had faith, and a white necklace. We both miss our sisters. The hilarious man who first said, “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re here to tell people about the Gospel. I’ve seen other people doing that.” then later grabbed our hands and placed them on his head so we would pray for him, is skeptical, just as I can be.
I’ve prayed for those people since that time. I pray that they have a home, and that they have enough to eat, and that someone else will pray with them…and in those moments a bubbly giddiness will rise in their chests. God gave this to me. They might think. He loves me.
Everything is a gift. I am too grateful to contain it.