The woman’s arms wrapped me up. Yes, her smile was familiar. I knew her. I’d first met her many years ago when life was hard. Well, hard for her and sad. Now it appeared she was on the upward swing. Several years back, I’d noticed the bright red coat around someone, a person who sat on a curb near the bridge where the church is held on Saturdays for the homeless community.
The music played under the bridge by Swampoodle Creek. The people sang, and a man strummed his guitar, but my eyes landed on the red coat by the stop sign a block away.
I was compelled to check on the person sitting on the ground. At first, I couldn’t tell if the coat hung on a man or a woman, and the only way to find out meant I’d walk across the field.
The cold air and the clouds drifted above, the weather thick with fog and damp with dew. I planned to say hello and invite this person to the service.
As I approached, I saw the curls and heard the sobs. A woman cried beneath the stop sign while people praised God and sang behind me. She curled up in a ball with her hands over her face, her head in her lap.
I sat beside her and touched her arm, listening to her cries as she said, “Why me? Why me?”
She wept and mumbled for ten minutes before her breathing and sobs slowed. I then asked her if I might pray with her, and I also asked if she wanted to join me for church.
“I’ll just sit here.” But then, she nodded. “Please pray for me.”
She rocked, pulled her coat tighter, and looked down. Her shoulders shook. She was ever so sad. I prayed for her, unsure of her need or her despair. But no matter how she got to the curb, I was sure she needed encouragement.
After I prayed, she shared her story like ‘floating clouds of despair’ as a million mosquitoes snacked on me through my sleeves with the sun peeking through the clouds. Several hovered inches from my eyes. I swatted, I blinked, and I itched.
However, the problems my new friend in the red coat endured felt worse than monster mosquitoes. Her life was loaded with worry and hardship. She’d lost her job. She felt misunderstood. Her rent was due. She had fears of returning to the street.
I continued to sit with her, her sobs lessened, and her voice cleared. I put my hands on her shoulders, and she turned to me, making eye contact. I told her some specific things that I believed she needed reminding of, like how God loves her, offers fresh new starts, and how he wanted her to do the next right thing in her walk.
Then from behind us, a homeless friend who never speaks much and mumbles came up and patted the woman’s shoulder. The friend from behind us lingered and even offered some advice. Remember that this was the first time I’d heard my homeless friend reach out to someone. And she told my new curb friend about a place she could find a job. And smiled while saying it.
So that morning, my red-coat friend never made it to church. She never left the curb or the intersection.
But still, the three of us had church with God, and loads were lifted and offered up to the Lord.
My new friends sat on the curb, seeking God, asking for help from Him, trying to understand. And oddly enough, He sent me, a nosey and rather loudmouthed person, along with my homeless friend, the quietest person alive. Yes, God sent us to comfort a heart.
Now I offered no easy answers. I couldn’t solve her problems, but I could listen, pray, and hug her. And hold her hand. I could let her know that God saw her in her pain. That He will go with her.
Later, my new friend and I stood, and she turned to me. She whispered, her eyes red from crying, her face streaked with tears. “Thank you for sitting with me.”
So, readers, I don’t know how hard today is for you. Or what curb you find yourself on. Or if life is filled with too many intersections. If you need hope, I pray that you’ll remember that God sees you. He hears. And He holds.
And sometimes, the embrace of a human can bring an embrace of confidence which is also something you can do even in your pain. Because on certain days, I, too, cry and wonder and worry and find myself alone with my burdens. Well, that is, until I sit with someone else, pray, reach heaven, and talk to our Savior. Our mission in sharing Christ doesn’t just happen when life is perfect. It often comes when life is heavier than we know what to do and when mosquitos bite at us.
Find a red coat today. Or look for a curb. Or take a glance next door. Or in the aisle at the store. Could you find someone to pray with at the intersection and gain clarity to rise again for you and them? Let’s move ahead. And make strides in living with a purpose. Listen to them. Hug them. Or sit with them. It could very well be precisely what you need, as well.
