Some people are less loved than other people.
A homeless man with no family and no friends is not loved by other humans.
He sits alone on the sidewalk. A few snowflakes fall around him. His gloveless fingers are cold.
A mother sits inside, warm, at the Christmas dinner table, across from her husband who loves her.
Her four children adore her. They giggle. Eli, the youngest, makes a mess of the mashed potatoes.
Her parents, proud grandparents, smile upon her. Her friends remember her birthday. This mother is more loved by other humans.
What tragedies separate them, the mother and the homeless man?

We are uncomfortable. We like to think about a God with infinite love – a God who loves the homeless man the same as the mother.
But could this be a way to absolve ourselves?
Aren't we supposed to ensure that the homeless man has as much love as the mother?
Deep down we sense that all human beings are infinitely valuable.
We’re supposed to be God's hands in the world. We’re supposed to ensure that every human has the love from other humans that they deserve.
Sometimes, what a homeless man needs – in addition to food and warmth and shelter – is a hug from a friend. When the snow is falling, he may want all those things more than the love of an invisible God.

On the tenth Christmas since the tragedies, Eli sits alone on the sidewalk, holding his own hands, looking up towards heaven.

[Featured Image by Erik Odiin on Unsplash]