Winding my way up the hill towards home, I noticed the graveyard to my left. Not new to me, but familiarity sometimes blinds me to life, even in a cemetery. I slowed, noticing fresh flowers and other signs someone was remembered.
Recently, a speaker at Gordon College said, “Everybody needs someone in their lives who you can tell stories to your kids about.” She was referring to stories of someone who believed in you, against all odds.
Yesterday, in a newscast, I learned about Miracle Messages.
One man, learned from the homeless in his area, there’s something called relational poverty. Out of this grew Miracle Messages, a nonprofit formed to “reunite the homeless through social media.” Imagine using cellphones for such a holy purpose.
Some of the volunteers and homeless wore T-shirts stating: EVERYONE IS SOMEBODY’S SOMEONE. They help the homeless record video messages with the hope of reconnecting, like a Lost and Found department for lost folks.
Maybe if I took that to heart, I wouldn’t skirt around, eyes averted, purse clutched as if they were nothing but a dangerous crack in the sidewalk to be avoided at all costs.
Today’s Palm Sunday. This time of year, like Christmas, the name of Jesus crops up in newspapers and TV, if only to announce sermon titles and times of Holy Week services. But Jesus never sought the limelight. He would’ve been at home with the homeless. Which makes me wonder, would I have skirted around his outstretched sandals, averted my eyes and gripped my purse like he was a potential threat to life as I loved living it?
Or would an encounter with this Jesus become the story of Someone I’d share stories about with my children, grandchildren and anyone else who needed to know there is Someone who loves them, against all odds?
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