This morning we began a month of services focusing on homelessness.  As part of that, I shared a poem written by one of my nephews that included the phrase, 'Daffodils kept me warm.' The Wordsworth poem, read or recollected, as he slept rough during a period of homelessness a decade ago.

Not physical warmth, no book or recollection can do that - but it can dispel the awareness of the cold.  I was reminded of an occasion as a teenager walking home on a very cold night, and deliberately 'thinking warm thoughts'... fire, hot chocolate, jacket potato, woolly hat... It certainly took my mind off the coldness, and the journey felt quicker.

Not physical warmth, but humanity - a reminder that, whatever circumstances suggest, I am still human, still have worth and am entitled to enjoy the pleasure of poetry.  For me it's more likely to something overtly spiritual, a Bible story recalled, a hymn or song uttered quietly in the night.  We all of us need something lovely or beautiful to give us hope, to remind us we are human, to reassure us we matter.

Home is not just a place, not just people, it is a state of being that enriches life.

My nephew has done amazingly well.  He is settled, has a family and a good job.  I am glad.  And I am grateful for what he has taught me about homelessness and human worth.