Not sleeping-in-the-streets homeless, but lacking in a home, and thus relying on the kindness of others for a place to lay my head. It lasted quite awhile. I was just out of college, working as a part-time youth pastor, unable to find an income to supplement that ministry salary.
I had been rooming with a college friend, but then he decided to leave me, and move in with his girlfriend. I couldn't afford rent on my own, and couldn't find anybody to share the space, so I had to move out.
For a little while, the church where I worked set me up with a spare room, giving me the space in exchange for playing part-time security guard. We had a gymnasium with showers, and a nice kitchen, so I had everything I needed. Except it was a little lonely, especially when earthquakes happened at 5 in the morning.
During that time I also slept on the floor of an acquaintance for a brief period, a security guard at the local strip mall. Every weekend he'd tell me I might need to find other arrangements, because he was expecting to bring "a hot little lady" home for the night. It never happened. He was a good chess player, though, and we spent hours playing chess in front of our little TV. I remember watching the Branch Davidian compound burn to the ground while we ate some cheap pizza and he killed me at chess once again.
But it turned out he wasn't paying rent. And he wasn't supposed to have the three cats he kept. And he never told the apartment managers about me. So I went away on a weekend trip with the youth group, and returned to find the apartment locked up by the local sheriff. I talked to the apartment owners, but since they didn't know me, I was out of luck. Thankfully, I didn't have much stuff in there.
I slept in my office at the church a couple of days, and eventually, right around the holidays, was invited to live temporarily in an airstream trailer in somebody's backyard.
It was sort of nice to have my own space, and a cool airstream trailer, at that. On the other hand, it was lonely, living in somebody's backyard. And this wasn't just any somebody. This was the classic grumpy church busybody who seems to show up in every church, the lady who complains about anything and everything, believing herself to be the expert on all of the church's business, even though she was really just a gossip.
I once walked into the office of my mentor, the previous youth minister, to find him in tears. He had just gotten off the phone with this woman. Later on, it all ended when the church was forced to kick her out, telling her she would either get counseling or never come back. She was that bad. But that was a year or so after I lived in her backyard.
The family was gracious to not even charge me rent. The only real cost to me was having to spend 30 minutes with this woman every morning, listening to her rant and rage and gossip about all the goings-on at the church. The fact that I worked in the office and was present at board meetings, and thus had first-hand knowledge of what was actually happening didn't sway her. She had her opinions, and she was going to tell them to me.
She also absolutely, positively, without question hated praise choruses. And I helped lead worship. So I got an earful on that, too.
During that time I finally found a second job, working in a local
The connection is this: I spent some of my hard-earned money to buy some Christmas CDs that year. I even bought a couple strings of Christmas lights, and hung them inside the airstream.
Which is how I found myself one night all alone in the airstream, bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights, sitting out a rainstorm that pelted the aluminum walls with a regular smattering of rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat, feeling a little lost and lonely and friendless and maybe just a little depressed, when this song came on:
And I was mesmerized. Enchanted. Overwhelmed. Between the tight chord structures, the tender piano, the soaring violin, the rushing, ascending lines of the melody - Christmas flooded into my airstream, and I was blessed. The aching beauty of the song called forth to the deep ache in my heart, and took my breath away.
It came to an end too quickly, and I hit repeat.* And again. And again. I played the rest of the CD, and went back and listened to this one again. For a moment I was living in a world of pure beauty. And all was well.
I still have this CD, and every time this song comes on, I'm instantly back in that trailer, feeling lonely and a little lost, trying to make sense of the world and the plan I was supposedly following. And this song is a gift to me today as much as it was back then. Simplicity is good. Simplicity is a gift. Loneliness isn't the end of the world, because of Immanuel. Christ has come.
In the gift we deliver, in the gift we receive
is the living spirit Mary did conceive;
A royal gift of love, incandescent flame,
is given to all mankind in his name,
Joy, joy it is our true delight
to give and receive on this wondrous night
The boy-child to Mary is borne
and his light will shine on beyond the dawn.
Consider this an early Christmas present.
*remember back in the old days before CDs, when you had to hit "rewind" and wait for the tape to go back through the song? And then they came out with 'auto-rewinds' that could sense where the break between songs was? And how we thought that was the most amazing technology ever invented?