Passenger from Outreach
One Friday after volunteering at Outreach, a place that provides resources and services to young adults struggling to secure a place to live, I was checking texts in my car when a young friend I had just met walked up to my car. We’ll call her Ann. Although I had seen Ann on several occasions prior, today was my first time in conversation with her. Ann was having a challenging day. She grabbed some food from the kitchen and then sat down in an area that wasn’t to be used for eating (normally rules aren’t this tight at Outreach but with Covid protocol, this was one of the safety rules set up for health reasons). Ann was not happy about being told she was eating in the wrong place. This altercation was all she needed to lose control of her emotions. One of the staff members escorted Ann to the chapel, to help her calm down and give her time to regain her composure. Although my interaction with Ann was very short, I felt I had learned a lot about her current emotional state. Obviously, she was suffering.
Approaching my car, Ann asked if I could give her a ride to the food stamp office. Not knowing where it was, I inquired, and she told me it was on Meridian St., which happened to be the area I was heading. I paused, searched my mind for reasons that this was not a good idea, of which none were evident and decided to say yes. In six years of volunteering, only on one other occasion, when I spotted, “one of my homeless friends”, as I affectionately refer to them, standing in the rain at a bus stop with a laundry basket in hand, did I give a ride that was not prearranged.
My “yes” would not disappoint but some fear would enter the scene first. Ann and I were having a nice conversation, when her emotions began to arise. She was explaining to me how she had been in a struggle with life and was in some trouble because she had beat up her boyfriend and had thrown a woman down the steps. As my senses became heightened, I quickly became aware of a reason that I probably should have said no to her request. I have a policy to not be alone with any males in my car. It’s been easily enforced and accepted. Ann is a female but not by birth. Although I did not feel in danger from a male assault, her strength could lead to trouble.
At this moment, I quickly shot up a prayer, asking for direction. Ann’s emotions were gaining energy. A voice in my head whispered, ‘ask her if she know me.’ Because Outreach is faith-based, we have the green light to discuss faith. Even though we have the freedom, some of our friends have been so hurt by people in faith that the topic can itself be a trigger of pain, especially with transgenders.
“So, Ann, do you know God?”, I reluctantly asked. Her mental state immediately became calm. Her anger disappeared. Ann proceeded to tell me that earlier that week while she was eating, God came and sat with her at her dinner table. She had been crying, very upset about her current situation. She said God told her, He had a better plan for her life. The friends she was hanging with were not healthy for her. She needed to start making better decisions.
When Ann repeated this message from God, her mind moved into a thinking pattern, as if she was reminded of the interaction and internalized it, again. I then asked if she knew that God loved her. She responded that she did. The rest of our conversation was filled with fellowship and friendship. We talked about how amazing our God is, that He comes to us so personally. With tears in our eyes, two completely different people, with 2 completely different lives, we connected in the truth of God’s love.
When we arrived at the food stamp office, we both had peace and a calmness, like we had known each other for years and were friends running errands together. When she left the car, my heart was filled with gratitude and joy, one that surpassed all understanding.
Words cannot truly express the encounter we had experienced.
Ann and I may never see each other again, but in a car on Meridian Street, on a Friday in April our inner spirits connected in a way I hope I never forget.
Who is this God we get to serve? He is so crazy that He allows broken people like me to share in the joy of His purpose. My word of the year is Behold! God used this adventure to show me yet another way He presents to us moments of awe. Behold, Indeed!
