Everywhere is the sorrow and the pain
Monday was -6 in Chicago (with windchill).
It was cold. Freezing. Below freezing.
The red line to the blue line (underground transfer), the two minute walk to the coffee shop, the two minute walk to the bus stop, the three minute wait in the cold for the bus (warm coffee in hand), the warm bus ride to the school, 30 seconds outside as I walked to the entrance… 8 hours inside a warm environment, with food and drinks and science fair projects.
By the day’s end in my home, I was a bit exhausted, on the brink of a cold, sorta lightheaded, and definitely needing sleep… so I called off work, canceled plans for the day and went to sleep in my warm bed in my warm house, pushing to the side extra blankets that would make it just too warm to sleep.
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I live in Chicago (technically the burbs, but only a few of you will differentiate as such). I see homeless people as often as some friends see white picket fences or business men.
I see them curled up in the corners of church doorways
sitting in the starbucks in the train station
walking around muttering to themselves
asking “Please, can anyone help me buy a sandwich, can anyone help?” over and over again for hours
stopping to help some tourist with directions
maintaining a sense of dignity despite the people intent on walking past and ignoring their existence.
I see those clearly new to the streets, with their nice bags and wide-eyed expressions, sometimes having just recently lost their apartments.
I see those who are as much of a fixture around these parts as are The Bean and The Faces.
I see those who always go out of their way to say hello and ask how I’m doing, because they recognize the path I walk on certain days.
With some I see the stories they’ve told me, with others the volumes spoken by their eyes and their smiles.
I see the face of a person, created in the image of God, carrying around the Weight of Glory, huddled against the corner of that office building, struggling to let the wall break some of the harsh wind attacking his hope from all sides.
………..
December 5 marked this year’s first officially confirmed death from cold.
From cold.
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I’m a writer, and I have no idea how the hell to put into words the tense way my body clenches into itself with anxiety when I think of this, the hot, angry tears that squeeze free from my eyes, the ache in the pit of my stomach that wonders if I’ll be able to eat after thinking about this again today, the echo the keys make as they punch this loss of ability to communicate onto an internet page.
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Everywhere is loss and death and hopelessness. And God breathes into this creation that struggles to even gasp for breath.
Today especially, I long for home.
