I just got home from a 5-day Academy for Spiritual Formation. It was a great week of worship, study, and community and I feel all opened up, spiritually speaking. Which is, perhaps, why I wandered into a very unusual experience at lunch today.
My co-worker, Patty, and I decided to walk a few blocks over to a Mexican restaurant. Ahead of us was a young woman. I saw her sit down on the edge of the sidewalk and pull her knees up to her chest. Her eyes closed and her face looked in distress. I wondered whether she was having a medical emergency, so when we came up to her, I stopped, knelt down, and asked, "Are you OK?"
(OK -- right there, this rational part of my brain started criticizing me, "What do you think you are doing stopping to talk to a stranger?!! You could've just walked on by and no one would even have noticed!")
The young woman said, "No, I'm not OK." "What's going on?" I asked, and she started to cry, saying, "My whole family has turned against me. I just had a baby three months ago and my sister has the baby and my mama hates me."
(My brain started lecturing again. "See? I told you not to get involved. It's not even a medical emergency. Now what are you going to do?" I have to confess that if I'd had any cash in my pocket, I would have just given her some and gone on to lunch.)
I asked her if she'd eaten anything today. She said no. I looked at Patty and she smiled encouragingly, so I said, "Would you like to go down to the Mexican restaurant with us and I'll get you something to eat? I always feel better when I've had something to eat." "Yes," she nodded.
"My name's Beth. What's your name?" "Deborah," she answered.
"And your baby's name?" "Angel," she answered.
"That's a wonderful name. When did you last see her?"
"I just got to see her a few minutes ago."
The whole way down to the restaurant, the critical voices were after me, "What do you think you are doing? This is insane ..." But the irrational compassionate part of me kept quietly walking on, just knowing it was the right thing to do.
We sat down over our lunches -- chicken quesadillas, and for Deborah, a taco salad. I shared part of my quesadilla with her -- I think she liked it better than the taco salad. Over lunch, we learned a little bit of her story. She got kicked out of her housing when she had the baby. She doesn't have a place to stay, or, it seems, a support network. While my friend refilled Deborah's water bottle with ice water, she ducked her head and said, "Thank you for lunch," and a smile transformed her face. I asked her if she believed in God. She said, "Yes." I said, "I believe in God, too. And I believe that God loves you and is with you no matter what you're going through. Don't give up hope. You're not alone."
Deborah offered to take our plates to the trash for us. We said, "Yes, thank you." We said "Goodbye," and "God bless you," and she walked on out into the afternoon.
The voices kept on going -- "How did that help? You can't do anything to help her with housing or a job or fixing her hurt." But that quiet sense of irrational compassion spoke louder, from my heart, saying, "It was the right thing to do."
I think of the thousands and thousands of Deborahs and Angels around the world. I pray that Deborah, Angel, and their family be touched by God's presence, healing, comfort, and compassion.
I thank God for the gift of meeting Deborah today. And I thank God for the openness of my heart that overwhelmed my usually cautious brain with irrational compassion.
Beth A. Richardson is Director of Electronic Publishing for Upper Room Ministries. She walks to lunch in Nashville, TN.
