What do I say? After all, I'm a dyed in the wool, born again, hand-raisin' Christian. So, why is it so hard when the voice on the phone... an old voice, a woman who shared bread with us 15 years ago... an old acquaintance/friend.... What do I say, when she calls and says, "I'm dying here. My daughter beat me up last night. I'm so afraid." How can this be?
It turns out she's been living barely 15 minutes away from me for the last two years but didn't have the nerve to call. She's in some kind of messy divorce. Her estranged husband was abusing her ... but no one back in her New Jersey church believed her. So she ran back to Maryland, to her daughter. It's all so much drama.
Her daughther & son-in-law are both drug addicts. And yet, their place was full of rules. Everything had to align with their topsy turvy schedule. She was getting sucked into their lifestyle... self-medicating the pain. I'm not sure why, but she's also on disability. She's only 61. She's waiting for special housing for the elderly.
What do I say?
"Help me," she cries. "Can you help me? Can I stay in your home for awhile? I'm so afraid." What do I say? How long, I think. Now? But I just got my life back from three years of caring for my elderly, mentally unstable mother. Go Away! Don't ask me to help you. Don't ask me to carry another dying soul. No. I won't. I can't. I don't want to. I just want...
What did I really say? I said, "Come." Just, come. We'll work it out. For a season, for a time. After all, we've got the house. We've got the guest room and it even has a full bath. I said, "Come." Somehow, we'll all learn ... for there's bound to be a lesson here... a growing. So, come, old sister in Christ and let's see what God has for us.
That was yesterday.
Today, she came. In a van-taxi full of stuff. Just like that. She's here now. She's asleep in our guest room in the basement. She's got two broken ribs and arthritis ... but she still has that lovely smile. She talks all the time and yet, her eyes shine. Her hair, once dyed and perfectly coifed, is now white as snow and pulled back in a pony tail. I can remember when she wouldn't go anywhere without full make-up. Now, she barely wears any. And did I mention, she talks all the time? She brought her own toilet paper. What does that mean? She ate two full plates of food. My God. She was hungry.
So, heart. Here's a path you never expected. It's time to slow down. It's time to go back to being the tortoise (and not the hare). Oh, yes, I'm still in the race. It's just not the same race I started in.
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