Episode 1

I have been sitting here, staring at my own idle fingers on the keyboard, and watching the little clock down in the corner of screen.  It is now almost 7:30 am, and I have been sitting here since just before 5, but I have been awake since 2.  All my life, sleep and I have not been very good bedfellows.  Whether it is a bad dream, or maybe just an overthinking mind, some times I feel like it is more frustrating to try to sleep, than to just get up! 

I think that more times than not, getting up and writing out what’s going on, brings me peace.  The sad part is, even after I write and feel better, I am still pooped.  I might as well keep writing, because I cannot go back to bed until tonight, or I will mess up my whole sleep cycle.

So, what has kept sleep at bay for me?  I’m glad you asked.  Well, let’s see now, I think it started about 3 or 4 days ago.  Have you ever had times where you just feel like you are invisible?  Like there are so many souls moving around you, but eyes are vacant?  I had come home from an activity that was packed with people, and I should have felt happy, but climbing in to bed that night, I honestly felt like not one of those people would ever remember my name or even my face. 

No harm no foul…no one did anything wrong, I simply mean that I felt like it was just a bunch of souls all caught up in their own stresses and struggles that most were just too exhausted to really try to make any real or enriching connection.

Anyway, I just felt a bit deflated, as I rarely stray far from my home to interact with anyone, and once again, it was just an unfulfilling attempt at connecting with others.  I’d been feeling that disappointed ever since going out, and just couldn’t seem to shake it off. Then something happened that brought my attention front and center! Sometimes, it’s the little things. This little thing happened to be a knock on our RV door, only the next evening. 

When I opened the door there was this girl, just standing there looking at me with a look that I cannot explain.  It was enough, though, to draw me completely out the door and down the steps to speak eye to eye with her.  I am going to share some things with you, and you may make your own suppositions from there.

  I cannot say how old she was, but my best guess was late teens, early 20’s but that’s the best I can do.  When I first came out the door, she had a cigarette in her hand and asked if I had any more.  I explained that I’d given it up a ways back. She immediately put hers out, gently picking up the cigarette butt and placing it in her pocket.  I remember asking her if she was alright, but here is where things get fuzzy…

What I thought she said was, “You are just like me, you know what its like, right?” 

The young woman’s voice was so small, I had to lean forward in order to hear her better. 

She pointed to my husbands work truck and said that she stopped at our home because maybe we could give her work.  My heart ached for the girl, as I had no easy answers or fixes.  I gave her directions of where to find shelter and food, but I just felt like that was no consolation. 

Then I just thought, I See You!

And, well, my dinner was sitting right inside the door.  I begged her to stay there while I went and gathered what I could.  I truly thought she would be gone when I got back, but she’d waited. I found her still rooted to the spot behind the truck where I’d left her… patiently waiting for my return. 

Please don’t judge me, but all I had was a cheese sandwich and some sliced watermelon.  I felt stupid.  She looked up at me with such a grateful smile, it seemed as if I had given her a steak from the Outback, or something.  She accepted the food, thanked me sweetly, and simply disappeared.  I haven’t seen her since. 

Looking back, I have pondered a few things… 

First of all, at no point did she ever ask me for money.  In these times, we all just expect it!  They are going to beg for money. Usually, if you offer them anything other than cash, they’ll just take off.  She did none of those things.  Could she have been a drug user,  an alcoholic, or maybe a prostitute, possibly?  Does it matter?  Should it matter?  I don’t think so.  I feel like God was telling me to just give and let Him worry about the rest.  Why does my ability to share anything God gives me, hinge on whether I think it is deserved.  Not sure that’s in the Good Book, anywhere! 

Secondly, I have been stymied by her statement about me being just like her and knowing what it was like.  I have gone back over it in my mind, and I am now not even sure she actually said it. 

Did I hear her say it? 

Did God say it in my mind? 

She could not know of my cultural origins… I am not even sure what I am!

  She couldn’t possibly know that I spent many years of my youth on the streets, just like her.  How could she know what I’d sacrificed to stay alive.  No one does fully, myself included, because survival instincts sometimes require us to block and/or forget that which was needed for the surviving.

For most it may seem trivial, but for me… I am left feeling like God brought someone directly to my door, because He knew I would answer.  I am not tooting my own horn in all this, trust me. I’m telling you about it, only because it was a major shift from my own tendencies. The old me from my upbringing was quite rigid, stubborn, distrustful, and willful.  It took a lot of confidence and faith in my spiritual growth, for God to send her my way. 

Was she the reason I’d been called in from the wilderness by my Father? 

God’s been the only one with the power to draw me in! Honestly, I would prefer staying away, out of self-preservation. I have a tendency to find more comfort and solace in the desert than I do around society. The difference in my life now is the willingness to go in any direction God calls me to.

 Sometimes, we don’t even have to go anywhere in order to serve God’s purposes… He brings them to us!