Welcome to my home.













Here is the front porch:















Here is the kitchen:















The living room:















Bed room:















The bathroom:












(JUST KIDDING- THAT IS SOOOOO GROSS!)




You see I'm what you call a "Rubber-tramp"
I have the open road instead of the 9 to 5,
I have a Coleman stove where I'm able to fry,
I've lost my shackles, and my spirit doth thrive,
I've left my familiar comfort
But the lack of those familial, does hurt.
My luxury now is a clean smelling shirt,
A spigot with space for my sudsy head,
And a sheltered place to make my bed.
My leg is sore and my arm is red,
But I have the chance to see the nations,
And to worship in sight of owls' silent predation.
The mutual benefit of random relations
Brings a new sense of love for the other;
Miles away I find sister, brother.
(Church ladies, I find, are quick to mother.)
But who are these people, from every walk and race
who welcome a pungent stranger and even embrace
Him as their own? Could it be that in him they see the face
Of the One who had the love to create?
Is this a step in the path of the One they emulate?
Isn't this the group that should break down hate
In every facet if its hold on lives and culture?
Our enemy is common; a lion, a vulture.
But does a scattered family have what it takes? Sure.
The potential is not ours, but from above,
To exercise the law of faith, hope and love.
Even when blemished clay is all we're made of?
This community, a collection of cups, is the design
of the Master; whate'er befall we'll do fine.
So, won't you join to strengthen this family of mine?