Simply put, the mustard seed tends to break my heart. I was writing a letter to someone the other day about how I remember being in jr high/ high school and being afraid of homeless people, then having an incredible experience in east Hastings and no longer being able to look at un-sheltered friends without thinking "beloved"
When I was walking around the shelter tonight I stopped and saw this written in the bathroom, I noticed it yesterday but didn't read what it said and now i just feel sad. This is the only place they can find for quiet. I think about myself and people in my life and how we talk about "me" time and how refreshing it can be to just be alone for a while and then I think of being in some sort of devastating situation where I would need to live at a shelter and have 300 roommates from all walks of life, in all stages of being, some happy, some angry at the world, some using drugs, some dealthy sick, and I think about feeling trapped there and how my only quiet place might be a bathroom....
A while back at a event for hands at work my Friend heather said "Sometimes the experience runs so deep its hard to find the words but we must tell their stories"
This is how I feel about the seed, I'm hoping to find the words soon...
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