Privilege to Collect

I currently live in my dad’s truck. Now that was enough of an opening statement for you to open this post, huh?

Yes, I’m a stray cat and my litter box is a gallon sized Arrowhead plastic bottle in case of the dark AM emergency – when I need to pee. Other than that, I don’t need a mattress and I sleep just fine.

So, I came back from NY last April. I was renting a room in a small town shortly across the George Washington Bridge – yeah, I didn’t think it through- paid work taxes in two states when the only real time I’d come in contact with my room would be when I didn’t work or when I’d enjoy a fully stove cooked meal. So for the proud 16 months that I was out there – $600 x 16 and the rent came out to $9,600.

I hear the struggles of Talia, the YELP employee who got fired for voicing the struggles of her living conditions – to all other entry level employees who feel the same, I’m sorry. If I too were in SF, I’d probably have no other choice but to crop my current truck to an accessible van – making it mobile through the city and through parking regulations.

What’s the hardest part of living like I do now? Answering the question, “Where do you live?”. Yeah, that’s it. The easiest part is actually sleeping through the night. To everyone in their 20’s not paying rent, you and I are on the same boat- same truck. And why is “I live with my parents” a more socially acceptable and less embarrassing answer? 

So let the judgments fly and while the swatters let their privileges determine why they cannot relate, I’ll try to live a godly, healthy, and creative life. If the wheels on the truck fell off and if the container let in rain would I be able to survive? Sure. If I needed to sort through bottles in trash cans to collect money would I be able to cash enough in? Sure. And if I can live without the microcosms that tell me I’m superior to others would I endure it as a lie or actually live in that truth? I’m hoping in the latter. 

A homeless man was digging a trash can for bottles and as soon as I opened my car door he asked me, “Do you have any recyclables?” MY GOD. THE HUMILITY OF THIS MAN TO STRAIGHT OUT NOT ASK ME FOR MONEY. Instead, I found some change in my car and transferred it to his hand. “That’s like 10 bottles.” Go on collecting my friend, go on collecting. 

And I’ve been collecting more of His wisdom- divine in the process, repentant of the pursuit, and more peaceful with the outcome. More gradually within the past two years, I’ve learned that there is no one black and white way to love Jesus, but there is only one way to respond to His love. Jesus, I love you in return. 


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