Maybe one day I’ll tell her how it all connects or maybe I won’t.
I will remind her everyday that God makes beautiful things out of the dirt.
I will remind her that the troubles that we face form our faith and that we have a choice in life to be bitter or better.
My little girl has taught me to toss out the bitter and focus on the better.
My dad was homeless.
I don’t mean that he didn’t have a roof over his head and four walls around him. I mean that he was homeless. He didn’t have a roof, four walls, pictures of family hanging, hot meals in the oven, the sounds of laughter from his children or the comforts of a true home.
He was a gypsy and shacked up wherever he could. Occasionally his home was our cities homeless shelter but he mostly found people that he would convince to let him stay with them.
He was homeless.
My mom once told me that she always gives to our homeless shelter as her way of thanking them for taking care of him if even for a short time. Nothing has given me more peace than that.
My youngest triplet, age 6, has developed a huge heart for our homeless community over the last few years…
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