A strange thing happened to me a few weeks ago, snapping me out of my preoccupied state of mind and forcing me to take a long hard look at the tougher side of life. 

It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was returning an item to the local Kmart on Harding and Nolensville.   Still in my church clothes from that morning, I was walking back to my van and thinking to myself  how much this part of town had changed and how I was ready to get out of there. 

With my head down and reaching for my keys, I was startled by someone who had stepped in front of me. 

“Hey, I remember you.  Did you go to Antioch High School?”

“Yes,” I answered, halfway smiling and halfway trying to figure out the name of the girl who stood in front of me. 

She was wearing clothes that were too big for her that had a few rips in them, and was carrying a large pink shoulder bag.  I couldn’t tell what was in the bag, but she kept it close to her side at all times, as if it contained everything she owned.  

She told me her name, and asked for mine.  Nervously, I gave her my first name only, and she said, “Great. I was just praying for God to send someone to help me, and now here you are!”   

Yes.  There I was.  Mmm, now what?

In my mind I was going back to a lesson learned at Winterfest, a Christian teen retreat, back in February in Gatlinburg.  The theme for that weekend was to “Love God; Love Others.”  During one of the breaks from the seminar and worship that was going on inside, they had secretly hired an actor to portray a homeless person to see how these “Christians” would react.

I personally didn’t see this person sitting beneath a “welcome” sign with a sign of his own asking for help. But if I had, chances are that I would do what I have done in the past – pretended not to see him or hope that our eyes didn’t meet. 

Don’t get me wrong – I try to help people, or so I thought.  But usually, it’s within some sort of program at church or by sending money through the mail or calling in during a telethon.  I suppose I would do whatever possible, as long as it didn’t put me in any type of danger. 

The teens on this retreat responded much differently than many of us more seasoned, and somewhat cynical, adult chaperones would have done.  Many teens gave money; some gave food; some wrote scriptures on a napkin and took the time to pray with this “homeless” man. 

Isn’t that what the Bible says we should do?  Apparently it does in those young and hip teen Bibles, but what about mine?

All of this was going through my mind as I spoke with this girl from high school.  As she told stories of both her brother and father committing suicide, being in and out of drug rehab, and losing custody of her kids, it was clear that her life had turned out much differently than mine.  She climbed into the passenger seat of my mini-van, talking 90 miles a minute, and quoting more scripture than I could have ever done.

She said a friend was trying to help her get a job, and she was actually supposed to start the next day.  She needed money for a bus pass and a TN state ID card, (no driver’s license) and a little food if I had any left over.

We ended up at a Family Dollar store near where she was staying with this  friend.  I told her to get what she needed, and while she looked through the store, I escaped into a corner to text my kids and tell them where I was in case anything happened to me.

She saw my phone and asked to use it, calling her friend to tell him where she was and that she would be back soon.  Apparently he didn’t believe her, and thought she may be out doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.  He wanted her to go to church that night.  She yelled at him and said she was just ”hanging out with her friend from high school” and that he should trust her. How ironic, I thought, knowing for certain that this was the first conversation the two of us had ever had.

Hanging up on him, she grabbed my arm and asked me a few questions about myself, never letting me finish any of the answers.  She did say she needed clothes for her new job, so we moved to the few clothing items they had. She quickly swayed back and forth as she walked, fidgeting with her hair as she scurried through the store.

We found a couple of items that would fit her tiny body, and then she startled me again by pulling up her shirt there in the store to reveal that she also needed undergarments.

“Yes, let’s get what you need,” I said, helping her pull her shirt down.

Filling her basket with toiletry items and a few snacks, she was thrilled and said this was one of the best days she could remember.

She asked to use my phone again, and made arrangements to meet her friend at a Walgreens nearby.  I was quietly relieved because this would keep me from going alone to a house in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and would let me use the ATM inside to get a little cash. 

She quickly got into a white pick up truck with her friend and introduced me to him.  As it turned out, this friend who was helping her was on food stamps, and they were heading to the grocery to figure out what they needed for the week.

I had been somewhat speechless the entire time we spent together, partly because I was listening, but mostly because I had no idea what to say. 

So, as she was hugging me good-bye, I managed to look her in the eye and tell her that God knew she was valuable and he would always be with her. 

And then she was gone. 

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this girl since that time, perhaps because she served as a spotlight that revealed some things in myself I’m not sure how to deal with.

Would I have helped her if she hadn’t told me I was an answer to her prayers?  Am I willing to help others even when it stretches me way out of my comfort zone?  Why did her life turn out so differently than mine?  What did I do to deserve a happy ending? 

It will take me awhile to come up with the answers to my own questions.  But in the meantime, I have figured this much out for sure.

In high school, there are unwritten rules that identify the popular kids, the athletic kids, band kids, the wild kids, and it all goes well as as long as everyone stays where they belong.  Right?

But, 25 years down the road, long after everyone has scattered and tried to find their own way to the finish line, it seems that we are all really the same.  We love God and our families.  We wonder how our kids can be in high school when it seems that we should still be there ourselves.  Some have found great success in faraway places, and some have stayed close to home.  All have been struck by the realities of adulthood, and when faced with tragedy or pain, have been somewhat amazed at our own ability to overcome. 

Maybe we are all stronger than we realized back then.  

And then, maybe there are still a few who weren’t as strong; who weren’t able to overcome on their own.  But the truth is that they too love God and their families, and are still trying their way to the finish line.  

Maybe it’s not too late for her.  I pray that she finds her happy ending.

And I’m thankful that for the rest of us, as we tiptoe into what the world would refer to as being “middle aged,” we realize that in the best of times and the worst of times, we all really need each other. 

I guess we needed each other all along.

Tags: Antioch High School, Bible, church, compassion, family, friend, God, help, homeless, people, rehab, religion, school, thoughts, writing