Momo

Ran into one of the fair mother city's most notorious homeless residents. We'll call him Momo. He spotted me at the library and called out to say hello. He said he and Lillian broke up. Lillian would tell you they were never together. She did let him sleep outside beside her house and would share food or drink with him. She's a single mom and when she asked me, I told her that I didn't think it wise to let him in. Momo can be unpredicatble.

Unfortunately, most agency workers and city dwellers butt into his annoying or aggressive side. One agency worker recently asked if we knew Momo. We got to share a side of him that is so sweet, so giving, so tender, few would guess... but I think it is the real Momo. The Momo before his brain cells got fried, the Momo before he'd gotten kicked over by a rotten world, the Momo before a dysfunctional family shaped his personae, the Momo designed by the Lover. If you look real close, this Lover shows up in Momo, in his smirk, in his humor, in his giving, in his calling out my name.

I know that what the Lover did through the Izzy ministry was from Him because of the way people continue to reach out to us today. We ran into a lady working at the hospital. She sought me out, saying she knew me from when she used to come in to get groceries. She said times still get tough sometimes, but she's making it as best she can. She came up to me like a friend, not at all embarrassed, but happy to know me and see me again. I want all my relationships to be like that. I think for many, the cameraderie we felt was like those who survive disaster together. Their personal tsunami, or illness or life shocking set of circumstances was lived with us, along with us in many ways (we often got groceries from the ministry too). Sharing with each other, living alongside through crisis (wether it be temporary or ongoing) instills a closeness that can not be faked. It makes us brothers and sisters, survivors and overcomers, as we should be.