A minor revelation

It was not readily apparent when I first moved to this historic, gritty city, but I now know with certainty that Philadelphia will not eat me alive.

I may very well get struck by a car (second close call today) and it is possible that I may grow more rough around the edges (people are not into eye contact here), but I have renewed hope in this place. I visited a recovery house in North-Central Philly this week (picture Mogadishu minus the beautiful equatorial climate) where men and women can find rest and respite and healing from all kinds of addiction. I swear I met a few saints of the earth this week. They reminded me that every pocket of the universe deserves love and attentiveness. My mouth dropped open in surprise as we made our way to the wintry backyard where fruit trees and gardens cover a two-block area. One of the saints said, "We cannot heal our own addictions until we heal the broken world that fostered our addiction. Even the earth can be healed."

I like this guy.

There are birds in this garden. Beautiful robins and sparrows living peacefully in a place that was once littered with dilapidated building materials and garbage.

Impressive. Also impressive is the Philadelphia public library located just a 5 minute walk from my home. There is life and beauty here if I just choose to see it.

At church on Sunday I sat between two African-American homeless men. We were asked to link arms at the end of the service and I thought that the gentleman to my right was going to make an ungentleman-ly-like move at any moment, but thank God I did not have to punch him in the face. His hands stayed where they needed to and the gentleman to my left rescued me with a smile and a knowing nod, moving between us. We human beings are amusing and I like the way we rescue one another on occasion.

"Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief" -- A Swedish Proverb