“Who is she?
She has potential…She has hopes and dreams for her life. She has her own beliefs and value system. She is created in the image of God, and is a unique and special individual.”
Who is she?
She is the young, single-mom that is your cashier at the store. She is working a double late-shift to pay for a tire-repair. It was expected, her tires are threadbare…Every-time she had to drive she said a prayer. But, what’s a girl to do with three little hungry ones, stacked up bills, and no family that can help. She rings up your one can of soup accidentally three times. You can feel you eyes roll, your irritation spilling out on your face. You don’t know who she is. But, you know that you are late for your gym class.
Who is she?
She is the woman standing on the side of the road with a sign. The plea for help doesn’t even make sense to you. Probably a scam, you mutter. Then on a phone call with a friend later in the day you giggle, recounting the event of a misspelled sign, dirty clothing, and unkempt smile. But, you don’t know who she really is. She was diagnosed at 15 with Bi-Polar disorder. She ran away from her abusive home a few years later… never having even a semblance of what some would call a “normal” life, and unable to see hope for a life that is “normal” anywhere in her future either. All she knows is to try and survive today.
Who is she?
She is the young college student. She seems firey, and driven by beliefs that seem so wrong to you. It’s not what you know, or anything that you are familiar with.. She wears t-shirts that don’t make sense, and you deem her with rebellion to the system that’s “right.” Yet, she struggles to be heard. She wants others to understand that there are hidden pains that others don’t seem to care about. She may seem to be yelling, and she is. She wants to be heard. She wants to help others be heard, too.
She is the woman with four kids at the park, who can’t seem to control them. Her kids have snot running down their face, the baby is in a diaper that is overdue a change, and the constant shrieks and chaos is interrupting your nice time. You keep throwing glaring glances. You hope she’ll notice and leave.. “What is wrong with folks? Why can’t they get it together?” She feels the looks, but sends one right back at you. Glare for glare. Do you know who she is? She lost her husband last year to suicide. She works two minimum wage jobs just to cope financially, and every day is a battle just to get out of bed. She hates the hopelessness she feels… she never even cares if her hair is clean, or anything is tidy. She is beyond tears. She feels so alone. She falls deeper into depression questioning why she can’t shake all this. Why isn’t she strong enough to pull them out of this horrible, spiraling mess. Maybe I can take the kids to play at the park, and think for a minute. But, where is the time…or peace… to even process anything with the overwhelming, daunting wall of this life?
Who is she?
She is the aging woman who lives across the street from you. She loves to tell you stories of yesterday. She seems odd, and you hate having to stop to speak to her.. it inconveniences you, and slows you down during your busy schedule. You pretend you don’t see her when she waves at you across the street. “Please don’t let her see me, or call my name,” you think. Then you wonder why you feel that way, irritated and ruffled… It’s because you don’t know who she is. She has lived a long life and watched most of her loved ones pass, her body aches daily with the cares of her age, and she spends all her days alone now. She is content with her days alone, but she also loves sharing her beautiful life stories with others. She wants to give, and receive companionship with others.
Who is she?
She is the three year old clamoring at your knee. Begging you wide-eyed to just “read it one more time!” She peers deeply into your eyes… looking to see if you truly are going to read it again. Looking to see if you are truly, fully and whole-heartedly there with her in this moment. She smiles with delight, as you pick up the book, pulling her close to you with a smile.. to read it just one more time. That’s who she is.
She is you, and she is me.
She needs others.
She needs hope.
She is important.
She is valuable.
She is loved.
She is a miracle.
She is specifically, and beautifully created in the image of God.
*Quote taken from Serving with Care and Integrity