Waiting for the Great Light

I confess to recently thinking about hunkering down and waiting for that eternal force to come bolting through the sky to make all things right. Me, the stout-of-heart, confessing to wanting a bolt of lightning...that's how crazy things have gotten....

In my 60 years, with the last 25 in service to my "homies," more respectfully referred to as homeless sisters and brothers, I'd never thought I'd long for what we considered, at the time, to be varying forms of Armageddon--the days of Ronald Reagan, George I, Bill Clinton, and, gasp, even Little George, the shrub.

With the speed of light, vengeance, hatred and doom seem to be hitting the weakest among us. Emboldened lawmakers, many proclaiming Christianity, are figuring out how to make the rich richer and the desperately poor more miserable. I'm afraid we ain't seen nothing yet.
But my faint hope lies in the fact that December 21st is right around the corner. The longest night of the year, my favorite holiday. It means things will start getting brighter. The days will inch their way into brightness, indiscernible at first.

My threads of belief center on the innate goodness of humankind, despite some peoples' efforts to convey other traits. Everywhere I go I see good, although sometimes not in quantities I deem sufficient to overcome the evil. But I always set my expectations high. Congress managed to pass a resolution commemorating this 10th anniversary of NHPMD. Woo hoo! At least it's something.

Knowing as I do that the bright light from the sky theory is probably not going to happen, I'm asking all like-minded people to join me in sprinkling the stardust of light that comes from lots of little goodnesses shared. If we all make a conscious effort, or increase our current effort (if we think we've been doing it before) to touch our sisters and brothers around us with kindness, maybe we'll overpower the rampant greed and meanness that we see.

December 21st is National Homeless Persons' Memorial Day. I find myself doing a mental roll call of folks I've know--adults and children--who have died, homeless or with homelessness behind them. Whatever foibles they had (and don't we all?), their lives were gifts to those of us who knew them. Some died alone except for their shelter "family." Some had reconnected with their families. The sincere reflections from fellow homies at these memorials would surprise many unfamiliar with life on the streets. (If you're interested in this, or other homelessness issues, check out my book, "Crossing the Line: Taking Steps to End Homelessness.")

Seems to me our best bet is to count on our homies--living and dead--to generate the flow of good energy that will swirl around the earth, generating the unmistakable power of goodness. We need it now more than ever. Amen!