I wrote a book called Homeless: My Favorite Park Bench. This is the beginning of a series of Homeless books. Have you ever been in a church and felt homeless? I have and that is where this series derived from and I wanted to reach everyone else who felt that way. Here is a snippet of a piece of the book:
As Joe hung up the phone after
speaking with his mother he says to me, “Did you think about the question I
asked you this morning?”
“You mean about the expecting thing?”
I retorted with my eyes in the air.
“Yes the expecting thing,” he said
with a smile on his face.
“I had no choice but to think about it
all day,” I said as he cut me off.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“When I left the soup kitchen this
morning I went to the Arts Center and this lady named Karen asked me the same
question you asked,” I said.
“Well, what did you tell her?” Joe
asked.
“I gave her the same answer I gave
you, nothing changed,” I told him.
“What happened next?” he continued to
inquire.
“As I was leaving the center she stops
me in the parking lot...I say that as if I have a car and was driving off,
huh,” I said sarcastically.
“Things will get better for you. I
know the God that I serve and if you want it He will give it,” he tried to
persuade me.
“Anyways,” I said rolling my eyes and
twisted my lips to the side and continued to say, “She caught up with me and
gave me this book.”
“I saw you reading something when I
was calling your name. What is it?” he asked me.
“It’s called, “Expecting When You
Don’t Know What to Expect” and it’s a poetry book. I didn’t know why Karen gave
me this book and what would it actually do for me but when I read the first
poem it surprised me. The author really captured how I felt and my current
situation,” I said as water filled my eyes.
“Hmmm…sounds like God is trying to get
you to have expectations in Him. He is not keeping you here. You are keeping
you here,” Joe stated.
“Excuse me,” I said appalled, burning
up on the inside.
“You heard me,” he said in a deep tone
of voice.
“Do you really think I like being
homeless? I mean really, is this where I want to be?” I asked him to make him
think about his choice of words.
“No, I am not changing what I said. I
am not taking it back. You need to hear this and today is the day. I’ve watched
you for the past two years be down on yourself but you never do or say anything
to pick yourself up. I understood it at first because anyone being on the
street for the first time is not a good feeling or experience but you stayed
there. I won’t let you do that anymore. When God gave me the go ahead, I went
ahead and sistah today is your day,” Joe said as he let some things off his
chest.
“I guess you told me,” I said giving a
little chuckle.
“We will talk more about this later,”
Joe said as he pulled up to his mother’s house.
“Your mother’s house is beautiful
Joe,” I said in astonishment and also thinking, “This brotha has some change in his pocket.”
“Thank you Samantha,” he said
politely.
I
was in amazement when we walked up to the door. When Joe rung the doorbell a
beautiful woman (that doesn’t look a day over thirty) came to the door. She had
long dark curly hair, beautiful skin lightly touched with eye shadow, lipstick
with a hint of gloss and foundation, sharp clothes with strapless heels and a
smile that could light up the darkest of days (just like Joe I might add).
“Samantha, meet my mom Mrs.
Hernandez,” Joe said as he introduced her.
“Hi, I’m Samantha,” as I restated the
introduction because I didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t at all what I
expected.
“It’s nice to meet you Samantha. Come
on in and relax,” Mrs. Hernandez said as she put her hand on my back to welcome
me.
This
home is stunning. Her foyer is huge, tall ceilings with engravings on them. The
curtains are flared just right to give the right amount of light throughout the
downstairs. There are stairs on the left and right of me going up in a curving
motion and the railings looks to be handcrafted. The dining room looks like it
should be seating royalty. I have never seen anything like this before in my
life. I mean I’ve seen it on television but never actually stood inside one let
alone know anyone that lives in anything like it.
Being a military wife myself, I understand the struggles all to well. After the recent redeployment, my husband and I was sitting on the couch talking and he was mentioning what the chaplain was saying in one of the briefings. He said the chaplain said that they don't know just how tired they are because they have been pumping adrenaline for months on end, handling this problem and that problem, going here and going there and sleeping but never really sleeping." It makes sense because as military spouses, we put out this same adrenaline to endure the deployment. I've been so tired since he's been home and now I understand why. 