We woke to a shroud of fog, engulfing us in a penetrating cold blanket. The kind where you find yourself damp within moments of being amongst it. It's the kind of cold that makes you stay inside, comforted by the warmth of a fireplace and cup of hot cocoa.
I had forgotten what it's like to be cold ALL the time. The bone cold that pierces your inner core. When you are homeless, if you're lucky, you may stand warming your hands over an open fire, but there is no inside for you to go to in order for the rest of you to be warm. It's the kind of cold that makes you believe that even if you lived in the tropics you may never be warm again.
I had forgotten that there is no privacy when you are homeless, yet you feel invisible because no one will meet your eye. If you can scrounge the $1.50 it costs to take a shower at the YMCA you have even less privacy. The shower doors are clear and there you are exposed to all who enter. They see the filth of daily living in the streets. They see the bruises. They see the scars. They see the ribs of starvation, but they don't realize that you are starving for more than just food.
I had forgotten how alone you feel especially on a bitter fog covered morning such as this. You realize what wrong choices you have made in life and out of desperation, you try to bargain with the God in which you did not believe. "Get me out of this and I will do whatever you want."
Of course you don't mean it and He knows that, but His heart is breaking just the same, watching you go through what you are and although you don't believe in Him, He believes in you and will carry you through this time of horrendous trials. But you don't believe that, because you have been programmed to believe that if there was a God, you aren't worth his time.
Maybe if you get cold enough or hungry enough or even lonely enough you will believe that He will help where people can not. All you need do is ask.