I have a confession to make. Yesterday, God put a young woman in my path - and I didn't handle it in the best way - and I can't stop thinking about her.
My husband and I were running errands and stopped at a coffee shop. I went in to use the ladies room, and noticed that in the handicapped stall there was someone sitting on the floor, listing a bit to one side. I went up to the door and noted she was breathing normally and didn't seem to be distressed although her eyes were closed.
She was beautiful. Long dark hair, dressed in a tangerine crop top with fringe and beige shorts. Her fingernails were gel nails, her sandals looked brand new. I decided to give it a moment and see what happened.
When we both exited the stalls, she put a crack pipe and lighter on the counter beside her purse. I had a micro second to register it and wipe my reaction off my face. I know from my police officer days, drug paraphenalia usually is accompanied with a weapon(s).
She said, "Don't judge me." I looked at her gorgeous brown eyes, the many scars on her wrists, and the tattoos she'd put on her arms to try and cover them. I said, "I'm not judging you honey, I just peeked in to make sure you're okay."
"My best friend OD'd, okay?" She rummaged around in her purse. "I was the one who found her, but hey, life goes on, right?" I stepped back unconsciously, my eyes on what was coming out of her purse. She held up two identical cheap necklaces from Walmart - enameled pink and blue butterflies. "She gave me these. She loved butterflies, I don't know why..."
I said, "Honour her by not letting someone find you on the floor OD'd. Butterflies are beautiful and so are you." My heart pounded. I knew we had a connection but I didn't know what to do with it. She was coherent. The crack pipe was clean; she hadn't been smoking when I came in.
She nodded her head as she looked at herself in the mirror. "You have a good day lady..."
I opened the bathroom door and could only say, "You have a good day too, hon..." and I left.
Later I thought, 'why didn't you offer to buy her lunch? or a coffee? or check to see if anyone outside was with her?' And it haunted me all day and all night.
We prayed for this unknown girl but I also asked the Lord to forgive me for not recognizing him and doing what ever He'd wanted me to do. Was I Jesus to her? No, she was Jesus to me. And I missed it. My reflex was to think "danger"... my tongue was tied when she needed me to say the right thing.
How many times a day, a week, a month, does God put someone in our path who needs His touch? His love? Like most people, I was concentrating on my own needs, things to get done, myself. But this girl stopped me in my tracks. Thank you, Lord. For showing me I need to be constantly tuned in to Your Spirit to do what You want me to do. In the moment, in a day, in a week.
I'll never know her name, but she's on my prayer list from now on.