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Review: NO ADDRESS

Some movies entertain, some educate, and then there are films that stay on your heart long after the credits roll. No Address has had that effect on me. It’s a hard look at homelessness in America told through the deeply human stories of people who find themselves on the streets. The mosaic of characters represents just a few of the different reasons people might find themselves living on the streets, but they all share the same fears in their struggle for survival.

To be honest, this wasn’t an easy film to watch. It’s raw, emotional, and at times, uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s the point. We live in a world where homelessness is often reduced to a passing glance, a forgettable meme, a problem for someone else to fix.

The truth is, many people are just one crisis away from losing everything. The film does a beautiful job of weaving together their stories, showing not just the hardship, but the hope, resilience, and quiet dignity of those living without a fixed address (a nod to the title).

No Address tackles some of the assumptions we make about the homeless. While certainly there are people suffering from profound mental health issues or debilitating addictions, there are many reasons that intersect for persons to become homeless. My eyes were opened to the stark reality that homelessness is not a matter of character or inclination but often, circumstances.

While No Address isn’t explicitly religious, its themes of compassion, dignity, and the call to see Christ in our neighbors are undeniable.

Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. (Matthew 25:40)

No Address is a powerful film that will move you, maybe even change how you see the issue. Perhaps it is an invitation to look beyond the memes and stereotypes and engage in a way that is meaningful. That can be as complex as volunteering or advocacy or as simple and loving as acknowledging the human dignity of every person you encounter.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Robert Craig Films

In theaters February 28, 2025

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A Crystal Moment Reflection

I recently had the honor of leading a writing activity for fellow writers at a retreat. The activity, My Crystal Moment, was a timeline exercise that examined key points or experiences in our lives that intersected with our faith journey. And then, because we are writers, we wrote a brief reaction to those intersections.

It was meaningful to me because as an immigrant, and daughter and granddaughter of immigrants, the national conversation on this topic is close to my heart. That it coincided with the release of my book, A Beautiful Second Act, in which I examine and call upon Saints who have had to shift or pivot into second acts, new adventures, and change, was not lost on me or my examination. I humbly present to you the unedited raw response from the activity. It may be the basis of something longer in the future, but sometimes, it is the first reaction to discovery that is the best.

The story of my life is exile. I came into this world without my father. My mother was surrounded by her parents and siblings, and no other family. She was born to parents in exile from the Spanish Civil war. She never knew her grandparents or her aunts and uncles.

My mother had her parents and brothers and sisters, but not her husband.

And I didn’t have my father.

Despite that, I did not experience abandonment. I was not fatherless; I just didn’t have my father with me at the time. What I did have, and still have, is a sense of waiting. Waiting for the day we would be united.

In order to be with my father, though, I would have to leave everything else that I loved behind. Each gain in my life has come with loss. Having three beautiful children came with a loss of two in the womb. Every career move for my husband came with a loss of opportunity in mine. Every move to a new city came with loss of friends and family.

I am in a perpetual state of exile, and even as the tears burned hot in my eyes at this surprising revelation, I see that we are all exiles.

From the moment Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden, all the generations and generations before us have been in exile, waiting for the day when we return to our true home in Paradise when we are reunited with our Father in heaven. As I look at this, I see that regardless where I have been in my nomadic life, God my father has been present through it all. 

The one virtue I have had, always, from the moment I was born, is hope. I see that it is hope, hope in Jesus Christ, hope in his mercy, that will see me home to my heavenly Father. I’m grateful for the Holy Spirit who in his love gave me a glimpse into this Truth.

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Embracing Advent: Renovations for the Soul

If you’ve ever lived through home renovations, you know how it goes—dust everywhere, constant noise, and the distraction of chaos in what was once a quiet space. We’re tearing down decks and moving walls, all while trying to keep some semblance of normalcy in the process. We haven’t even started painting. It’s messy, inconvenient, and often a frustrating exercise in impatience. But as Advent approaches, I’m starting to see all this chaos in a new light.

Advent is a season of preparation, a time when we ready ourselves for the coming of Christ. It’s kind of like a renovation project for the soul. Just as we tear down and rebuild parts of our homes, Advent invites us to examine our hearts—what needs to be torn down? What needs to be repaired?

What’s the spiritual equivalent of an outdated bathroom? Do I have a shaky deck with rotting boards in my relationships that need mending? Am I mired in emotional clutter taking up space where Christ could dwell?

Setting Priorities

You can imagine how antsy I’m starting to get. I don’t want to enter the holiday season with a house full of unfinished projects. I don’t want to celebrate Christmas out of boxes. While clearing a section of my desk that was filled with scraps of papers, notes to myself, I paused to read the scribbles from scripture that accounted for many of those scraps. Words of encouragement, some of consolation, the occasional observation from a saint. I settled on the following admonition from St. John the Baptist:

“Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.” (Matthew 3:3)

I love this imagery because it speaks directly to the work of clearing obstacles, making things right, and creating space for what’s to come. That’s what renovations do—they disrupt, but they also renew.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed in both physical and spiritual renovation. In the house, I keep thinking, When will this end? In Advent, I think, Am I even making progress?

But here’s the beautiful thing: we have Christ, who is the ultimate renovator of our hearts. He comes into our mess, our unfinished work, and makes it beautiful in ways we can’t imagine.

This Advent, as I live amid the dust and noise, I’m letting it remind me to make room in my life for Jesus. To clear the clutter, tear down the walls of my own making, and allow Him to build something new.

Maybe your life feels a little under construction, too. Take heart—this is the perfect season for it. Let’s prepare the way together.

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