The rain, to me, means peace. It means grace. It means my prayers have been answered. It means our dams get fuller.
I climb in my car, run into my apartment and know for sure that I will have a warm, dry bed to sleep in at night.
For the homeless, rain means issues: more than they already have…
It means not necessarily having a dry bed.
It means they have nowhere to go to stay dry.
They don’t care about dam levels or just-washed-my-car-and-now-it’s-raining-again drama. They don’t care about the peaceful nature of the rain.
Their aim is to survive: to feed themselves, to find a relatively dry place to sleep and to protect themselves and their little bits of belongings.
Beauty still is in the eye of the beholder and even though I find a thunderstorm incredibly beautiful, I can see that a warm plate of food, shelter and safety to a homeless person, can have the most incredibly beautiful thing ever.