The Homeless Muse

I have been busy in the usual ways. Work, family, holidays. Keeping up with prayer and church, but not having much time for writing. I do not regret the lack of time. It is simply a fact of life.

Now that I have time to write, I realize that time is not what was lacking, but action. Christian action. Helping others. Over the past few days I made some efforts to help others, a homeless man, a woman who clearly needed some assistance, serving at church, donating to a child-relief program in the Philippines. Doing these things served to lift me out of my train of thought - mere thought - and place me in terms of action.

Action. Writing is action, I realize. It is not merely putting thoughts into words. I am better able to write now, not because I have time, but because I am in an active frame of mind. I was passive - waiting for opportunities to help, waiting for time to write - then I became active. So now I write.

Who do I thank for this? I thank the Lord, who always has my back. And I thank, in particular, Paulie, the homeless man I assisted. Well, Paulie, wherever you are, we said we would pray for each other. I hope that my prayers for you have been as effective as yours were for me!

That the prayers of a homeless person would be heard should not surprise us, even as we are accustomed to take pity on those who live without creature comforts. Spending time with people in need, I am not so quick to assume that the line between us is perfectly defined. I know the benefit that I receive from helping others, and I am aware of the blessing a person confers on me by allowing me to help them.

Perhaps this matrix applies to writing. The act of writing is, to my mind, a broadcasting of intentions, hopefully good ones. Those intentions are perceived by others, who in turn are (again, hopefully) strengthened in their own work. In all of this, there is prayer. Contemplative prayer in the mental work of arriving at the right words to suit the occasion, and dynamic prayer in publishing one's work, or reading the work of others.

I will write as others write, as others compose music, paint pictures, arrange flowers. We are, in action, the visible manifestation of what God has intended for us as a means of broadcasting our intentions. We live and love; work and play. Some make art, some make friends. There is a greater equality to our lives than we can ever comprehend. To say that we are brothers and sisters in Christ seems to me not to quite capture the magnificent implications of universal equality.

I say I helped Paulie; I know he helped me. But can I encompass in mind and heart that we are one?