My Moment

This was a cut-and-paste from a Skype conversation I had with an 'M' friend of mine. I took out her responses and left mine in, which is why the format is irregular. But I'm exhausted just thinking about it and yet I wanted you all to know. Because it's this sort of thing that has melted my flesh and is altering my shape:

I had a deeply moving moment with a beggar woman in DD.

That seems to be where I meet my mercy moments.

Well, we'd seen her earlier one day and Grace offered her a McDonald's toy for her child. The woman's face was so beautiful and grateful and gentle that I was struck instantly. She blessed G with her hand--some Hindu something...

Well I let it go...

Then we went to Barista for books and coffee later that day and she was there.

It happened that the bookstore was closed and we were sitting in the cafe section in front of a large window. We saw her squatting there in the shade and then saw her try feebly to get a few rupees here and there...no one even looked at her.

And the H. S. was heavy on me. So I told J I wanted to give her money and that I was going to sit and talk with her for a moment.

I was trembling, which I always do in significant moments and I hate it and wish I didn't...

So I took the money and squatted like a yogi in front of her. My children and husband could see my face as I was facing Barista, but not the woman's as she was leaning against the window--down on the ground.

I pressed the money into her hand and said in Hindi, "I'm giving this to you in Jesus' name. He loves you."

She stared into my eyes and said, "Aachaa?" Really?

And I might not ever forget that surprise in her voice.

Then she began pouring out her heart to me

and I stared into her yellowed eyes, and I wept.

Could not stop myself.

She did not cry and I did.

And my kids watched me.

And people stopped to see the white yogi talking to the beggar woman and--Lord, no!--touching her arm.

And she told me that not everyone has love in his heart...that people aren't kind. That it's devastating to have no husband in this hard world.

That she comes from Bihar, the dirty place.

And like an idiot, I cried and nodded

and said, "I know."

Even though I don't.

And then I talked to her children a bit. And I don't know what made me do it, or maybe I do, but I touched her forehead with mine.

And I asked her if I might pray for her.

And she said 'yes.'

So I did--but in English.

And I asked Jesus to save her from her sins

and reverse her fortune.

Father to the fatherless.

And my heart was so full I thought it might split.

And then, it was time for me to go.

So I went back into the air-conditioned Barista and lost interest in my expensive coffee.

And then Caleb said, "Look! Just now the book store opened."

And so it had.

So we went in and bought books and I managed to cobble my heart back together as I stared at titles, places I might escape to.

And then, as we were leaving, back through the coffee shop, she smiled at us and J handed her a bottle of water from the cafe.

And she pointed to heaven with her hands and smiled.

And then we said goodbye for maybe ever.

And I don't know how to live here.

But when my children said to me solemnly, "Mom, we saw you crying," I thought maybe that will bear fruit someday

in the soil of their little hearts

because their mom cried.

Jesus was sweet to me.

because I know what a bad M I am

and He let me have that moment

and I thanked him for it as if he'd given me something very special

because he had.