" What you really need is just to be hugged"

He comes aboard the RV
plopping into booth
backback in tow
anger and frustration building
unloading things pent up
scattered eye contact
sick of no dignity
tired of being overlooked
exhausted of life as a wanderer
my words are thin
he doesn't need a response
or my fumbling for answers
he needs to be heard
another man sits nearby observing
pondering the words being spoken
he too his homeless
he launches into an explanation of blessing
things to be thankful for on the street
to look on the brighter side
I behold this fascinating pep talk
one man low, hunched over in his seat
the other expressive and joy filled
polar opposites
when it becomes apparent that words aren't helping
joy filled man's eyes light up
" What you really need, is just to be hugged"he speaks happily
dropping his things and embracing with endearment.

" I have wounds... I am wounded."

She lays crumpled in the fetal position
head drooped to ankles
gripping for balance on a little brick wall
whimpering anguish
She beckons us near

Summoning all strength
head lifts briefly
matted thick hair tosses back and forth
the weight becomes to much
exausted head flops back to ankles

Tiny in frame
covered in open sores and scars along arms
spatters of dried blood cake little ears
bending down I see her face
disfigured, difficulty breathing, eyes fighting to stay open

My nose is overwhelmed by the odour
My eyes struck by the depth of frailty I am beholding
My arms seek to steady her
My voice struggles to keep soft and soothing
My mind races with what my action steps should be
My heart feels heavy and devastated by her reality

Help soon reaches us
we drive to the emergency room
she mutters between squeezed eyes reacting to unbearable pain
"I have wounds, I am wounded"she whispers
sinking in and out counscienceness


My mind fills with "she is the least of these"
the moment is holy, Jesus is present
her body curls into itself as she fights to hold on
"...And I identify with the least of these"
I hear in the quiet among the chaos

"The messy, piercing ache of now..."

"The joy wonder could be here!

 Here in the messy, piercing ache of now, 

joy might be - unbelievably- possible!"

Ann Voskamp

She tugs at thigh high boots

feet crumpled and cramped

musing at little toes crying out 

thick curls of hairspray

  red, darling smile

she takes a break from her night work

contagious laughter fills the space 

with wide eyes, a gentle yet proclaiming tone

she hoots "praise Jesus"

enjoying her spontaneous self

she squeals again for good measure

letting out a string of blessing words

she playfully directs my face to hers 

to guarantee my listening

"don't forget he hears you"

scolding me with gentle laughter 

lighting up with mischief, unable to contain her secret

 with head resting back, she belts a U2 song

I slowly join her

I baffle inwardly at the rare joy wonder I am beholding

I  am undone in the messy, piercing ache of now

I take in the moment as she shows me joy-

unbelievable joy

somehow possible on this night.