Here she comes again.

I could hear her before I could see her—the wheels of her cart clacking over the terra cotta tile pavers as she rolled toward me.  Honestly, she was a throwback … austere brown uniform, gray plaited hair framing her dark kindly face . . .

Me?  I was sitting at a small table, drinking coffee, praying with my pen in hand, in my familiar lined Moleskin, which is like a friend to me.  My thoughts, formed by squiggles and swirls of my feminine handwriting had been ranging from honest, ragged thoughts of fear about Matthew’s¹ new medical condition of epilepsy—(God, what is to happen to him?  He is so plagued by debilitating headaches; will he be able to resume a quasi-normal work schedule and life?)  Fears, which are not normal for me, turned to prayers in bowls put before my Lord who sets all things straight. 

As her metal housekeeping cart moved into the upper frame of my view, first my eyelids lifted and next my chin, to smile at her.  And then I did something kind of unusual I suppose . . . I got up from my window seat and took a step toward her, ‘May I hug you?’ I asked, and not waiting for an answer, reached out and wrapped my arms around her.  Her arms hugged me back as I said, “Thank you so much—I really needed that hug.”  ‘Well okay’ she quietly said and we both resumed our positions of a few minutes prior.

Sitting back down, I admitted to the One who knows all about me and loves me anyway, ‘God, I know fearful thoughts are not from you, so God – I give them to you.  I ask you to take my son, touch him, and heal him; cause him to turn back to you.’  In short order, I felt my Lord say, ‘Come to me, all who are weary and I will give you rest.’²  That’s right, God knew just what to replay in my mind from the Scripture.  (Ironically, the author that captured Jesus’ words and heart about the offer of rest was Matthew!)

Still, something continued to nag at my somewhat tired mind, and I queried my Lord about the root of it, and sat quietly -- ‘your heart has been hurt.’  Yes, Lord, it truly has.  And that said, I knew to give him those feelings as well.  See, back in the fall, I made a new friend, who came to Women of Passion …³   She was broken, starting with a hurting childhood and a life that spun out of it, coloring everything else in her life in a somewhat stilted hue.  I did what I knew to do—I loved her to Jesus, the only One who could understand her, the only One who could make her whole, the only One who could give her lasting peace.  She gladly welcomed him into her heart, mind and life.  And at first, she was filled with a joy she had never known, and the prospect of being restored in her familial relationships that had been long strained or in some cases, entirely severed.  Hope filled her heart, and all who met the petite brunette with the ‘can do’ personality were witness to the transformation.  It was beautiful.

But apparently, Jesus was great, as were the Christian women who became her beautiful, loving friends, (as she described them), but learning more of what Scripture had to say about a moral lifestyle was a deal breaker.  And just like that, she is now gone—and since I was the messenger—she has cut any and every connection she had with me … blocking my phonecalls, e-mails, etc.  Relationship over.

Clickety-clack, here came the kindly cleaning lady with the gentle face, rolling back toward me on her next round.  I looked up—she smiled warmly, and kept on rolling.  Something about the exchange comforted my heart.  I sat there, waiting for her to come by again, but she did not.  I found myself waiting overlong for her to make her next pass by my table, but she never did.  Huh, I wondered in passing if she might be an angel unaware, sent to love on me, or for me to do the same … sent as a reminder that it is ours to reach out and touch, because touch is so important in extending the love of Jesus.  “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”⁴

Perhaps you are meant to be the one who extends love to a stranger today, something to think about, isn’t it?  God uses all of us who are willing, even a sweet cleaning lady in Florida, maybe especially her.

Christine