It wasn't every day you got to spend a whole bunch of days sleeping on the ground outside. It wasn't every day you got to spend a whole bunch of days sleeping on the ground outside with a pandemic raging on. It wasn't every day you got to spend a whole bunch of days sleeping on the ground outside with a pandemic raging on, during the COVID 19 pandemic. And yet, there I was, sleeping on the ground outside during a pandemic. Of all the places I could have been, I was homeless. There were a lot of people who were afraid. They heard about something that happened on the news, they got petrified of the potential results, and so they decided to bunker down and buy a whole bunch of toilet paper to the point were it was almost completely sold out in every grocery store. Can you imagine that much toilet paper being bought out? I guess I could? I mean, that was pretty ridiculous! That much toilet paper being bought out! Dude! That much toilet paper! Me? I wasn't afraid, and I still am not. For God is my refuge and my strength, and I put my trust in him. God says He will protect me in His word, so it will be. I don't need to see, I know and I believe. And so far, I haven't gotten COVID throughout the pandemic (and for all you conspiracy theorists out there, ‘the plandemic,' that being said with an overexaggerated wink), so, I think He's done a great job as He always does! He made heaven and earth and all things. Shouldn't I trust Him when He makes a promise? A lot of things were closed and being homeless that was frustrating at times. I was restricted in what I could do and how I could do it. There were so many of my favorite places that were shut down, and I was really limited in what I could do. But, I was pretty busy writing. I got my first publications throughout this pandemic so I am pretty happy. I remember calling my brother on the phone when he and my family had got covid and he was saying, “Dude, I lost my sense of smell and taste. It feels bad man,” He replied. I was chuckling and sarcastically replying with, “Oh, you poor, sad little thing, you,” and both of us started laughing. As the pandemic starts to wrap up, with tensions still high in some cases and people still on alert, I am still homeless as I write this and its frustrating at times, but I have hope. It may seem like its hopeless at times, but I know it's not! I have seen it first hand! God's been good this whole time, and I believe he will continue to be to the very end. For the time being, I need to keep striving and believing, not becoming disheartened or discouraged by the setbacks, and continue to believe despite the odds I go against. May Lord Jesus Christ have all the glory!

In January 2018, my housing provider referred me to a new surf therapy program which was being piloted. I was sceptical; how on earth could surfing be therapeutic? Wouldn't I drown? At that point I was willing to try anything to help my ever-worsening PTSD. I turned up with no expectations. I didn't really speak to anyone, just showed up, put the wetsuit on and listened. As soon as I caught that first wave that was it. I was hooked. The feeling of riding the wave was something else completely. Even before I tried to stand up on the board, the sense of freedom was unreal. I didn't attempt to stand up until the second session, and before I knew it I was surfing twice a week and then nearly every day over the summer. Even on days when the sea was flat I would paddle out just to get that sense of calm that the sea brought with it. I knew that whenever I was in the water, all my problems would disappear ; the flash backs, nightmares, anxiety and fear. For those few hours I could be a different, worry-free person. The hours I spent in the water were my form of mindfulness. When you're surfing you cannot afford to think about anything else. If you lose focus for even a few minutes you can end up swept out in a rip, colliding with another surfer or on top of a reef. Even when you have a ‘'bad surf'' it's still a complete distraction. It gave me a focus, something to aim towards. When you're up against something as powerful as the sea, it's a huge challenge but even when getting absolutely pummeled by the waves it makes you feel like you're really achieving something. In July I started volunteering with The Wave Project, a surf based charity which helps children with emotional and behavioural problems through surf therapy, It meant I could get in the water on both Saturdays and Sundays and pass on my skills to children who really needed that escape. It was great that I could use some of my experiences to help others. I could tell when they first turned up how anxious they were, and I knew from starting surfing myself how scary that was. The Wave Project also meant I got to meet loads of like minded people; positive people who constantly building each other up. I turned up one Saturday morning after having hardly any sleep due to noisy neighbours and was in the worst possible mood. Instantly they knew. I was inundated with hugs, offers of brews and practical support. The Wave Project is like a big family, no one gets left behind and even on your worst days they can make you feel like you have really achieved something. I always made a point of telling the children who seemed especially anxious that I had been through a similar surf therapy program myself, with the hope of easing their nerves. It was great to have some of them open up to me and trust me with some of their worries and fears. At the beginning of November I did my surf instructor course which was an amazing experience. I passed everything apart from the timed swim. So that's what I'm aiming towards now, passing my timed swim so I can spend the summer teaching kids how to surf and passing on my enthusiasm for the sport. When I speak to the instructors who led that first session I went to, they mention how I wouldn't even make eye contact with them at the beginning , let alone speak to them. It's amazing to look back and see how far I have come and the things I am now able to do, mainly because of surfing.

For three months last winter I stayed at a cold weather shelter (the shelter is opened from end of October to the1st of April.). The people at the shelter had some severe health issue. There were a lot of people there with “severe mental health issues” (if you get SSI or Social Security people with mental health issues are dumped in low-income housing if you don't get a check you are among the homeless.). One pretty young woman who legal name is Ashley, but she went by another name Martha. One cold morning Ashley decided to go outside barefoot and with no coat on. Another woman named Linda used to live under a bridge when the shelter was closed. Another homeless person named Mike (we called him chemical mike), all he would talk about is all the investigations into chemical leaks in the area. Another homeless person was Dan. Dan was a veteran who drank a lot. Dan was a savant when it came to music. Dan could tell you the name of a song, its artist, the year the song came out, and where it when to on the charts, just from listening to a couple of notes of a song. Because Dan drank a lot he ended up in hospital a lot (suicide attempts). You had to leave the shelter by 7 am. Dan would go to grocery store and ask people if he could take the carts back to cart area (there was a 25 cent deposit on the carts, when you put the chain back in the cart that was already there the quarter came out. That was Dan's panhandling day). I tried to help Dan out by giving him a couple of dollars (Dan was one of the homeless who weren't motivated to help their situation, the “chronic homeless”. Another young woman cut herself and had to be taken to the hospital. Another person was arguing with staff and not making much sense, he was escorted out of the shelter. There was one homeless person who stated “I can't wait for the shelter to be opened next year”. Shelters are temporary housing, they are not meant to replace regular housing. There was one woman named Lisa who I spent some time hanging around with at the shelter. Lisa had been homeless for six years, she kept all her belongings in a grocery cart and the shelter let her keep the cart there. She told me a story how she got be homeless, her boss where she was working found out the she was sole provider for her and got her fired just because he thought it would be funny. Lisa stated that she wasn't in contact with her family. I liked Lisa a lot. One night she had breathing problems, and was taken to the hospital. Lisa had no other person to call a friend, she stayed to herself. I like Lisa a lot (and due to my proclivity for the downtrodden) I went up to see Lisa in the hospital. One day I brought her clothes, and her bags on another day. She was to have a follow up visit with a doctor once she left the hospital, however Lisa had no money, no insurance, and no way to get to the doctor's. After the shelter closed on April 1st Lisa went to live under a bridge. Several other homeless people followed her. The bridge was next to police station. Several fights broke out among the other homeless people and the police eventually ran off everyone who was living under the bridge. At this time I was working two jobs and living in my car. One job was working in another state (Winchester, VA) after work I would drive to the bridge where Lisa was staying and would give her money for food. I had it, she didn't and because of the way I feel about her I could just let her starve. One time when I went to the bridge where Lisa was staying I asked her if she wanted to go on a date to a fast food restaurant just up the street from where she was staying. Lisa stated that the last time she left her belongings unattended she ended up getting in trouble. I also ended up getting Lisa a bracelet. I always told Lisa that I would get both of us out of homelessness (I really wanted to, I wouldn't have minded spending the rest of my life with her.). It didn't quite work out that way. A former policeman who is now a social worker helped get Lisa into low income housing and I eventually ended up in a second floor apartment that I had to give up a couple of weeks later because of breathing problems. I qualified for food stamps when I was unemployed and I went to a food pantry. I ended up donating the food to the shelter. This was my way of give back to the people who have helped me. Any little thing I could do to help out. In the time since, I have developed some health problems (I had to give up a couple of jobs because of them.). There was one time I donated food to the shelter, that I also gave them a knitted scarf to give to Lisa, I hoped she enjoyed it (It was around Valentine's day and I considered it a Valentine's gift to Lisa.). Lisa if you are reading this just know that I love you.

The most beautiful moments of my life are the ones nobody sees. God has called me to see the sacred in the ordinary. From ripe, round, unbearably red strawberries in a simple pottery bowl to spindly curvy palm trees arching into a perfect Hawaiian sky or speckled-belly puppies lying on their backs under a hot Georgia sun, if I choose (and I do choose) to see with my heart as well as my eyes, I get to watch the common transform into the holy. I am one girl, one woman, one daughter, one mother. I have lived this incredible lifetime of memories, choices, gains and losses. Sometimes I wish I'd accomplished more: written my bestselling book, won the Pulitzer, made more money, acquired more possessions. I wish I'd become famous for something meaningful, helped to eradicate a disease, saved a life, or invented something really, really cool. In those times, when I'm thinking that way, I feel a little foolish. What is my life about? Why was I here? And, in some cases, what was I thinking? But, God reminds me. He made me with one purpose: I am here to bear witness. And I take that charge seriously, with great reverence and gratitude for that which I am privileged to see. Like the connection between my daughter, a homeless man and me in front of a Costa Mesa diner. A disheveled man with bright blue eyes in a sun-beaten face, whose name is Kevin. Who connected with my brand newly 26 year old daughter Zoe and me. The one who said, "I was just wondering what to do about dinner" when we offered him a burrito, uneaten, with a clean fork, knife, napkin, and a gorgeous fruit juice. I looked at him and took him straight into my heart. We will never see each other again but Kevin is a part of me now and I am a part of him and that is because God showed him to me, and me to him. Our hearts met because we could see. Like the nights - so many of them - when I leaned, exhausted after a long shift at the hospital, and stared down at my three daughters, sleeping in their little beds. I drank in the sight of them, lying there with their tousled hair and the innocence of sleep dusting their beautiful small faces. It was hard, lonely and scary being a single mom but every time I looked at my girls, my heart cracked wide open and new strength flowed through my tired veins, giving me life to keep going one more day - for them. Like when my parents' house was leveled by a tornado and I watched my 82 year old father searching through rubble for pieces of the 70-year-old train set he's had since his father gave it to him when Papa was 12. That strong man, that beautiful heart, that frail body, bent and weak after twin heart attacks, a stroke, and heart surgery less than a year ago...his will, his courage, his beauty shone like a bright light over all the broken bricks, splintered wood, uprooted tree trunks. Like the way God made me a Pied Piper of animals, mine and other people's and strays. I love them all the same. Ruffy, the tiny toy poodle who became my love, the son I never had, the husband I should have had! Ruffy, who became my dearest companion for the next eleven years til he died at 18. I think Ruffy is still with me. How could he be gone? I feel his presence. I loved him then and I will love him always. Thank you, Dillie, for being his first mom and for allowing me to be his last. And Molly, Beau, Dearie, Goldie, Sadie, Peter Criss, Lily, Sophie, Nahla, Ollie. To every animal I have ever seen wandering the streets, I pray each time that you will be safe, fed, protected. I give you food if I can. I love you. I see you. I see squirrels darting, raccoons scooting, deer leaping across roads and I pray to God for you to make it, and for you to live long lives, free from hunters and fast cars. You matter because I see you. We are all living souls. Like the one who gave life to me, my strong honest God-fearing mother. I watch her raising her grandchildren. She is 74 years old. Every morning she gets up and takes three kids to school. Every night she stays up late, getting clothes washed and lunches ready. I see you, Mama. I see your tiredness, your fear, your weariness and I also see your surviving spirit, your strong beating heart, your wisdom that goes on forever. Like the beauty of humanity: people making human chains to save one dog, a woman giving her life to save her child's, people of faith sacrificing for their beliefs, one homeless man giving his coat to a homeless child. This life is a gift to us from God. That's what I believe. You don't have to believe that way. One thing we all need to do, though, is find a way to bear witness. If we don't, it will go away. And we, as a people, will have lost out on an entire universe of honest, simple, ordinary, common moments that are actually magical, beautiful, wondrous, glorious, sacred, and holy.