People that most would overlook as they sit shivering on a street corner wrapped in newspaper,
or as they pant carting their shopping cart of humble belongings up the hill in the city,
or as they wait in line for food stamps.
"I want to learn Spanish," I say, pointing to the man's Spanish-English bible as Angel spoons shepherd's pie into his mouth, chews quickly, swallows, and smiles large.
"Yes! Read Salmo veintitrés."
Stumbling over the life-giving words in a beautiful language, butchering every attempt at pronunciation, I read.
Enthusiasm spreads across the faces of those who were fed these words as children in this way. Stories spill over of mothers reading this before bed, of churches in Puerto Rico and weddings and home wells up in the hearts and spills over as tears form in the corners of eyes and souls find belonging in a Psalm.
"Read Salmo noventa y uno. My mother read that every single night before bed," Naomi requests softly, misty-eyed.
I carefully muster the words, trying to hard to deliver these sacred words in a way as lovely as they are, in their true nature of joy upon joy.
" 1 El que habita al abrigo del Altísimo
se acoge a la sombra del Omnipotente. [a]
2 Yo le digo al Señor: «Tú eres mi refugio y mi fortaleza,
mi Dios, en quien confío ".
"Amen!" shouts Angel. He is a freed man by these words.
"Wow!" Naomi gushes, "I knew you were an angel, I missed these words. There was a reason you came here today!"
She rises, with strength not her own, and lifts her hands to the Spanish music playing in the background, singing along,
"Levanto mis manos!" she sings in abandon, she offers in surrender. Not caring who sees, blissfully unaware of any others but the Lord, the love of her life, her strength and her courage.
Courage in the face of a daughter's illness and grandbabies in adoption and custody battles and the trials of each day.
I gaze in longing at this devotion.
Just that morning I had written in a prayer journal of the searching and longing to know Him, though He lives inside me I feel silly and ridiculous and how can I not know a God who lives in my very heart?
It is simple, the way we find Him. Simply complicated by the world around.
Naomi found Him. That is why I love that place, where those labeled lost by the world gather and show they are really found, how they know finding the Lord with every ounce of energy, clinging to Him with all strength.
How they rejoice in His promises.
I was the one wandering lost that day.
Naomi found Him. She knew constant thanks, gratitude and praise as natural as breathing, the hunt that is more than worthwhile is not a hunt but a lavish love, and expedition of worship.
I find Him there too. All insecurity I carry as rotten cargo, it shall disappear so my Savior can live and reign in the heart that beats for Him. It is knowing security, it is knowing my stronghold.
Rejoicing like no one is there.