On April 8th of 1991, I received the best piece of mail I have ever opened to this date: my acceptance letter to Duke University. I had been so anxious about it, but Grandma Liz had been praying me through my stress. Of course, when I saw the letter, I ran down the hall to tell her the outstanding news. I was too late. She was already cold. After what turned out to be her final chemo treatment, my Grandma had laid down, tucked her hands under her sweet cheek, turned her face to the open window, and left us....to receive her healing from God's Hands and in His presence.
I was furious with God. Three hours. You couldn't have waited to take her just three more hours? Long enough for me to share my news, to show her that You had answered our prayers? You could have given her to me for three more hours.
God didn't apologize for His actions. I waited in vain for that to happen. What did happen was this: He sent me an epiphany. You weren't the only person with a prayer.
How many nights had I heard her in the room, groaning from the pain, calling His name: "Oh, Lord, have mercy. JesusJesusJesusJesus." Just aching and moaning, praying and waiting. He chose not to let her wait any longer. I live with that choice. And I have learned to say, "Yes, Lord. Thy will be done."
On the anniversary of the day that I received my best news and my worst news, I want to celebrate my Grandma Liz. I'm so proud to bear her name. She was a classy woman who loved to shop for "a shoe and a bag." Maybe that's why I love shoes and purses so much. I hope to live to be the beautiful, inspiring, woman of faith that she was. To be a prayer warrior, interceding for others. An anointed singer. That's where my dad gets his gift from. She has left a rich legacy, and I'm doing my part to carry it on.
The next time you are faced with your moment of rage, questioning, and incredulity at something God did which didn't meet with your approval or line up with what you wanted, remember this: You aren't the only person with a prayer.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Committed or Comfortable?
Are we really committed to becoming as much like Christ as we can?
Ask yourself...Are there parts of who I am that I would not willingly sacrifice or change? Not your morals and values. But your attitude. The way you interact with others. Do you often say "This is who I am" or "this is me" and expect other people to deal?
So often we are committed to knowing Christ, but we neglect to really show Christ through who we are and how we interact with others. Do we allow our pride to cause us to give someone a piece of our already sliced off mind? Or do we model humility and choose silence over doling out a tongue-lashing? Do we allow our short tempers to cause us to create a reputation as a "hot head" and a "sharp tongue?" Or do we exemplify patience with ourselves and others? Are our conversations filled with criticisms and cracks, or do they uplift those around us? If we truly believe we are the righteousness of God in Christ, the children of God, and mirrors of Christ, then we should always ask ourselves---and pardon in advance the cliche---What would Jesus do? I know you have a bracelet and a t-shirt and maybe a pair of earrings with WWJD stamped on it, but after you have bought the merchandise and asked the question, then you must be willing to do what Jesus would do, say what He would say, respond the way that He would respond. I mean, after all....you are wearing the paraphernalia. You might as well honor it.
As the 2012 year comes to a close, I am feeling challenged by my Holy Ghost to do better. To be better. To fully and earnestly be like Christ.
That's what I'm desiring.
Growing up in church, I was blessed to learn the Word while I was young. I am extremely at home in church. I am grateful for what I know of God's Word and of God's Son. However, I believe sometimes we can become so comfortable with what we know about Christ that we don't really stop and ask ourselves if we are becoming like Christ. Each year that we live a life of holiness, do we see ourselves changing for His glory? Are we more like Him and less like the self we used to know? Am I more patient now than I was 5 years ago? Can I hold my temper (under the power of the Holy Ghost) better than when I was in my twenties? Do I still behave like the-same-old Liz, or am I--prayerfully---becoming just gradually more like Christ?
When I envision my own life, I think of it as a painting, a colorful tapestry with Christ woven into every strand. In all my interactions, conversations, and relationships--with my family, strangers, folks at my job, folks on the subway, and even the miserable people who cut me off in traffic (God help me with that one!)--I want everyone to see the glorious Light strand of Christ.
So, in 2013, I'm pressing on from comfort to commitment. I want folks to see Christ through me. As wonderful as I think Liz may be, I am nothing without Christ. He is the only good there is to be found in me. And in realizing that, I have come to reach for Him more and more, because I know the best "me" is found in Him.
My Prayer: Less of me. More of You.
Ask yourself...Are there parts of who I am that I would not willingly sacrifice or change? Not your morals and values. But your attitude. The way you interact with others. Do you often say "This is who I am" or "this is me" and expect other people to deal?
So often we are committed to knowing Christ, but we neglect to really show Christ through who we are and how we interact with others. Do we allow our pride to cause us to give someone a piece of our already sliced off mind? Or do we model humility and choose silence over doling out a tongue-lashing? Do we allow our short tempers to cause us to create a reputation as a "hot head" and a "sharp tongue?" Or do we exemplify patience with ourselves and others? Are our conversations filled with criticisms and cracks, or do they uplift those around us? If we truly believe we are the righteousness of God in Christ, the children of God, and mirrors of Christ, then we should always ask ourselves---and pardon in advance the cliche---What would Jesus do? I know you have a bracelet and a t-shirt and maybe a pair of earrings with WWJD stamped on it, but after you have bought the merchandise and asked the question, then you must be willing to do what Jesus would do, say what He would say, respond the way that He would respond. I mean, after all....you are wearing the paraphernalia. You might as well honor it.
As the 2012 year comes to a close, I am feeling challenged by my Holy Ghost to do better. To be better. To fully and earnestly be like Christ.
That's what I'm desiring.
Growing up in church, I was blessed to learn the Word while I was young. I am extremely at home in church. I am grateful for what I know of God's Word and of God's Son. However, I believe sometimes we can become so comfortable with what we know about Christ that we don't really stop and ask ourselves if we are becoming like Christ. Each year that we live a life of holiness, do we see ourselves changing for His glory? Are we more like Him and less like the self we used to know? Am I more patient now than I was 5 years ago? Can I hold my temper (under the power of the Holy Ghost) better than when I was in my twenties? Do I still behave like the-same-old Liz, or am I--prayerfully---becoming just gradually more like Christ?
When I envision my own life, I think of it as a painting, a colorful tapestry with Christ woven into every strand. In all my interactions, conversations, and relationships--with my family, strangers, folks at my job, folks on the subway, and even the miserable people who cut me off in traffic (God help me with that one!)--I want everyone to see the glorious Light strand of Christ.
So, in 2013, I'm pressing on from comfort to commitment. I want folks to see Christ through me. As wonderful as I think Liz may be, I am nothing without Christ. He is the only good there is to be found in me. And in realizing that, I have come to reach for Him more and more, because I know the best "me" is found in Him.
My Prayer: Less of me. More of You.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
What the Doctor Said -- a poem
September of 73
a young mother
pushes out
an early child
unformed lungs
un-termed gestation
out
before time
in
a matter of time
"She'll never live,"
the doctor prophe-lied
and the 4 pound premie
struggled against the machine
helping her lungs
do
what the doctor said they
couldn't do
I've never been the one to listen to limits.
38 years
456 months
1,824 weeks
13,870 days
332,880 hours
19,972,800 minutes
1,198,368,000 seconds
later,
I'm still here.
Living life out loud
with Love and Laughter
Well, doctor.
*smirk*
I am my own 2nd opinion.
(c) Copyright 2012
a young mother
pushes out
an early child
unformed lungs
un-termed gestation
out
before time
in
a matter of time
"She'll never live,"
the doctor prophe-lied
and the 4 pound premie
struggled against the machine
helping her lungs
do
what the doctor said they
couldn't do
I've never been the one to listen to limits.
38 years
456 months
1,824 weeks
13,870 days
332,880 hours
19,972,800 minutes
1,198,368,000 seconds
later,
I'm still here.
Living life out loud
with Love and Laughter
Well, doctor.
*smirk*
I am my own 2nd opinion.
(c) Copyright 2012
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Testify
Testify!
Stand flat-footed, look me in the eyes and tell me
the truth
about you.
Not the truth
as you want me to know it
or as you wished it had gone down
or as you want your grandkids to hear it.
Not the censored-for-church truth.
But the truth as it really was.
Truth requires courage,
and the most courageous truth one can tell is the truth about the self.
The truth
that you slept with more folks than you have fingers and toes
The truth
that you lied and cheated just as easily as you inhale and exhale
The truth
that you shot that dude in the corner store and you still worry that somebody will find out
The truth
that you have a criminal record just as long as your micro-braids
The truth
that you smiled in that girl's face before you violated her
The truth
that you (a woman) let that other girl touch you and you can't stand yourself anymore because you liked it
The truth
that you still turn over in the night and taste that vodka in your dreams
the truth
that you feel an old, familiar longing when the guy on the bus walks past you smelling like weed
The truth
that stuff YOU don't even like to remember that you did
The truth
that real deal, the stuff God knows and fully forgives
Tell THAT truth
We know you done went to the river, the water was cold, it chilled your body, but not your soul.
We know the angels in heaven done changed your name.
We know it was the blood for you.
We know you got a little light and you want to let it shine.
But can you sing us the real song of overcoming?
Can you belt the tune that only you can sing?
Will you tell us the lyrics to your life?
And maybe
if you testify
someone who feels crushed down
can rise
instead of feeling
unworthy
because they see you
now
and can't imagine you
then
when you were
what you are--
no longer--
but only by the grace of God.
Is there anybody here
who will
TESTIFY?
Stand flat-footed, look me in the eyes and tell me
the truth
about you.
Not the truth
as you want me to know it
or as you wished it had gone down
or as you want your grandkids to hear it.
Not the censored-for-church truth.
But the truth as it really was.
Truth requires courage,
and the most courageous truth one can tell is the truth about the self.
The truth
that you slept with more folks than you have fingers and toes
The truth
that you lied and cheated just as easily as you inhale and exhale
The truth
that you shot that dude in the corner store and you still worry that somebody will find out
The truth
that you have a criminal record just as long as your micro-braids
The truth
that you smiled in that girl's face before you violated her
The truth
that you (a woman) let that other girl touch you and you can't stand yourself anymore because you liked it
The truth
that you still turn over in the night and taste that vodka in your dreams
the truth
that you feel an old, familiar longing when the guy on the bus walks past you smelling like weed
The truth
that stuff YOU don't even like to remember that you did
The truth
that real deal, the stuff God knows and fully forgives
Tell THAT truth
We know you done went to the river, the water was cold, it chilled your body, but not your soul.
We know the angels in heaven done changed your name.
We know it was the blood for you.
We know you got a little light and you want to let it shine.
But can you sing us the real song of overcoming?
Can you belt the tune that only you can sing?
Will you tell us the lyrics to your life?
And maybe
if you testify
someone who feels crushed down
can rise
instead of feeling
unworthy
because they see you
now
and can't imagine you
then
when you were
what you are--
no longer--
but only by the grace of God.
Is there anybody here
who will
TESTIFY?
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
The Boat, the Backdrop, and the Two Elements that Matter
Have you heard the story of Peter walking on the water? Here's a quick review (or introduction).
Peter and his crew were out on a boat, taking a break from the crowd and ministry. A storm started brewing, and Jesus came walking towards the boat on the water. Peter thought it was Jesus, but wasn't quite sure (there was a storm going on, you recall); he asked, "If it's You, tell me to come to You on the water." Jesus said, "Come on!" Peter heaved himself out of the boat onto the water and started walking on water. (Way cool!) Well, you didn't forget the storm factor, did you? Peter did. For a while, as long as his eyes were on Jesus, the storm was just background noise. But then, he sort of noticed the wind blowing, the water churning, and realized, "People don't normally walk on water." Boom. He started to sink. However, Jesus was there and came to his rescue, and then they walked on water back to the boat. It's a great testimony.
So, who are you in this story? Are you a person in the boat? Maybe you watch a lot of Peters in your life with awe and a little envy. "He's doing something amazing," you think to yourself. "I could never do that." Your courage fails you. So you watch from the boatside. Longing but afraid. Maybe you're a critic and a cynic. You say to yourself, "Ha! That Peter is an idiot! Watch when he drowns. It'll be his own fault." You wait for it to happen so you can tell someone "I told him so." I hope this isn't you. Maybe just someone you know. Maybe?
Possibly, you're Peter. A little on the looney side. Crazy, some say. A tad-bit detached from the mundane, limited reality that others see and live. You are just edgy enough to believe that something extraordinary could happen today, and it could happen to you! You're a boat-abandoner. You spot Christ through the storm. Despite the wind, the rain, and the deafening sound of the angry sea. Through the depressing backdrop, you spot the Light, and you call to Him. You say, "I want to be where You are." And The Light says, "Come on."
But there's still this storm. Don't look at it. Eyes on the Light. Water doesn't work on you. It can't pull you down, because the Only Power is commanding the water to lift you up. And so while everybody in the boat is watching--with envy, with awe, with indignation, and whatever else they can muster up that isn't faith--you walk through the storm to the Prize. It doesn't mean you won't falter along the way. After all, you've got to give the spectators a little bit of a show. Something worth watching. But in the end, you get what you wanted. Because your faith and His power are the only two elements that matter. They are all you need to have an experience that is solely yours which no one can take away. An eternal triumph that will never tarnish or fade.
So what are you waiting for?
Lift. Leap. Push.
The water feels good under your feet.
Wave bye-bye to the nice people in the boat, honey.
You heard what He said.
"Come."
Peter and his crew were out on a boat, taking a break from the crowd and ministry. A storm started brewing, and Jesus came walking towards the boat on the water. Peter thought it was Jesus, but wasn't quite sure (there was a storm going on, you recall); he asked, "If it's You, tell me to come to You on the water." Jesus said, "Come on!" Peter heaved himself out of the boat onto the water and started walking on water. (Way cool!) Well, you didn't forget the storm factor, did you? Peter did. For a while, as long as his eyes were on Jesus, the storm was just background noise. But then, he sort of noticed the wind blowing, the water churning, and realized, "People don't normally walk on water." Boom. He started to sink. However, Jesus was there and came to his rescue, and then they walked on water back to the boat. It's a great testimony.
So, who are you in this story? Are you a person in the boat? Maybe you watch a lot of Peters in your life with awe and a little envy. "He's doing something amazing," you think to yourself. "I could never do that." Your courage fails you. So you watch from the boatside. Longing but afraid. Maybe you're a critic and a cynic. You say to yourself, "Ha! That Peter is an idiot! Watch when he drowns. It'll be his own fault." You wait for it to happen so you can tell someone "I told him so." I hope this isn't you. Maybe just someone you know. Maybe?
Possibly, you're Peter. A little on the looney side. Crazy, some say. A tad-bit detached from the mundane, limited reality that others see and live. You are just edgy enough to believe that something extraordinary could happen today, and it could happen to you! You're a boat-abandoner. You spot Christ through the storm. Despite the wind, the rain, and the deafening sound of the angry sea. Through the depressing backdrop, you spot the Light, and you call to Him. You say, "I want to be where You are." And The Light says, "Come on."
But there's still this storm. Don't look at it. Eyes on the Light. Water doesn't work on you. It can't pull you down, because the Only Power is commanding the water to lift you up. And so while everybody in the boat is watching--with envy, with awe, with indignation, and whatever else they can muster up that isn't faith--you walk through the storm to the Prize. It doesn't mean you won't falter along the way. After all, you've got to give the spectators a little bit of a show. Something worth watching. But in the end, you get what you wanted. Because your faith and His power are the only two elements that matter. They are all you need to have an experience that is solely yours which no one can take away. An eternal triumph that will never tarnish or fade.
So what are you waiting for?
Lift. Leap. Push.
The water feels good under your feet.
Wave bye-bye to the nice people in the boat, honey.
You heard what He said.
"Come."
Saturday, July 7, 2012
The Not-so-Social Social Media: Lessons I Needed to Learn
I'm a people person. From my perspective, my personal connections are some of the greatest blessings God has sent into my life. And as my older sister tells me, "Liz, you're a 'carry with.' Everyone you meet, you remember, and you will carry them around with you in your heart 'til you die. You don't let people go." All of that was true. If we ever connected and had a great time together, we can experience a 3 year gap, but on that 3-year-and-a-day date, if we run into each other again, I will pick up right where we left off.
That's who I am.
So, not surprisingly, I of course have a Facebook account with hundreds of "friends." My goal for creating a Facebook account was to maintain my "carry with" relationships. Also, my family is spread far and wide (well, not so far. Just to SC and GA, but it's far to me!); I wanted to be able to keep them up-to-date on the kids' highlights, our family updates, and my random daily thoughts, observations, and outbursts. Good motive. Good choice. Good start. But all things change.
I won't drag you step-by-step down the journey towards my epiphany. I don't feel like typing it all out. Here's the bottom line. Every one of my FB "friends" is not a "carry with-er." The connections and communication I desired were not always present. There were times when I reached out personally and there was no reciprocation. I realized that what I wanted and why I signed on was not the same motive and use as others. I wanted to share my life with those 500 folks. That wasn't going to happen. Well, I was baffled, and being an ex-emotional mess, I was on the verge of "going off" (I hadn't committed to whether I would go off in tears {my old go-to move}or in a rage {my new favorite move}). Thankfully, God kept me from doing either one. Instead, He taught me a lesson.
You can't take everyone with you into each new stage of your life. It was as if God asked me, "If your arms are filled with the old "carry with," where are the new friends I'm sending you going to fit in?" Great question, God. Always with the great questions.
Here are some of the answers God helped me to discover for my situation:
1. Liz, if you want personal connections, go out and make some. That one pinched me a bit when He spoke it into my spirit, but it is true. After having taught for 16 years, my personal connections were waiting for me whenever I arrived at work. I had 100s of folks with which to interact, not to mention the students. But, when you are called out of one area into a new journey of faith and joy, you miss out on your daily circle of loved friends. So, I have joined a book club at the library to meet some new local ladies, and I am grateful for the relationships I have formed at my new part-time job. There are only 3 of us who work at my job (a big step down from what I used to have), but the other 2 women are wonderful and fun and a blessing, too.
2. Liz, don't focus on what you expected to get from your FB connections. Can you focus on why I allowed you to reconnect with them? Hmmmm.....Ministry. Oh, yes, God. I had lost sight of that for a little bit. FB isn't just about what I want from it, but how can I use that network to show/share Him with others? I got You, Father. Yes, I am saved to SERVE OTHERS, not the other way around. My bad, she said with a sheepish grin.
3. Liz, remember your Girl Scout song: Make new friends and keep the old. One is silver; the other is gold. Gotcha, God! Thanking You for who is already here. I will seek to serve and minister to them while You minister and meet all my needs. And in the meantime, I will gladly receive the new connections you are sending me. Speaking of "new connections," against my initial desire, I opened a Twitter account (at the suggestion of my marketing consultant). Surprisingly, I have been getting an enormous amount of feedback, responsiveness, and new twiends (*wink, wink*) from Twitter. So, I'm enjoying the gold and cherishing the silver.
So, readers, I conclude this blog at peace. I've learned some important lessons which will be applied to my life, effective immediately. And know that you don't have to comment on this blog, respond to my posts on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, or subscribe to me on YouTube. Whether silver or gold, you are always precious to me. No response required.
That's who I am.
So, not surprisingly, I of course have a Facebook account with hundreds of "friends." My goal for creating a Facebook account was to maintain my "carry with" relationships. Also, my family is spread far and wide (well, not so far. Just to SC and GA, but it's far to me!); I wanted to be able to keep them up-to-date on the kids' highlights, our family updates, and my random daily thoughts, observations, and outbursts. Good motive. Good choice. Good start. But all things change.
I won't drag you step-by-step down the journey towards my epiphany. I don't feel like typing it all out. Here's the bottom line. Every one of my FB "friends" is not a "carry with-er." The connections and communication I desired were not always present. There were times when I reached out personally and there was no reciprocation. I realized that what I wanted and why I signed on was not the same motive and use as others. I wanted to share my life with those 500 folks. That wasn't going to happen. Well, I was baffled, and being an ex-emotional mess, I was on the verge of "going off" (I hadn't committed to whether I would go off in tears {my old go-to move}or in a rage {my new favorite move}). Thankfully, God kept me from doing either one. Instead, He taught me a lesson.
You can't take everyone with you into each new stage of your life. It was as if God asked me, "If your arms are filled with the old "carry with," where are the new friends I'm sending you going to fit in?" Great question, God. Always with the great questions.
Here are some of the answers God helped me to discover for my situation:
1. Liz, if you want personal connections, go out and make some. That one pinched me a bit when He spoke it into my spirit, but it is true. After having taught for 16 years, my personal connections were waiting for me whenever I arrived at work. I had 100s of folks with which to interact, not to mention the students. But, when you are called out of one area into a new journey of faith and joy, you miss out on your daily circle of loved friends. So, I have joined a book club at the library to meet some new local ladies, and I am grateful for the relationships I have formed at my new part-time job. There are only 3 of us who work at my job (a big step down from what I used to have), but the other 2 women are wonderful and fun and a blessing, too.
2. Liz, don't focus on what you expected to get from your FB connections. Can you focus on why I allowed you to reconnect with them? Hmmmm.....Ministry. Oh, yes, God. I had lost sight of that for a little bit. FB isn't just about what I want from it, but how can I use that network to show/share Him with others? I got You, Father. Yes, I am saved to SERVE OTHERS, not the other way around. My bad, she said with a sheepish grin.
3. Liz, remember your Girl Scout song: Make new friends and keep the old. One is silver; the other is gold. Gotcha, God! Thanking You for who is already here. I will seek to serve and minister to them while You minister and meet all my needs. And in the meantime, I will gladly receive the new connections you are sending me. Speaking of "new connections," against my initial desire, I opened a Twitter account (at the suggestion of my marketing consultant). Surprisingly, I have been getting an enormous amount of feedback, responsiveness, and new twiends (*wink, wink*) from Twitter. So, I'm enjoying the gold and cherishing the silver.
So, readers, I conclude this blog at peace. I've learned some important lessons which will be applied to my life, effective immediately. And know that you don't have to comment on this blog, respond to my posts on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, or subscribe to me on YouTube. Whether silver or gold, you are always precious to me. No response required.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Backstory: Why You Should Love, Not Judge
He wanted me to help him pick out a dress. It wasn't for his wife or girlfriend or daughter. It was for him. "Are you okay with that?" he asked quietly. "I'm okay to help you," I replied. "That's what I'm here for."
So, we chatted. Waist size. What's the occasion? Do you have a favorite color? We smiled. I made a few jokes. I talked about what I hate about shopping for a dress. He talked about what he hated when shopping for a dress. Finally, he took two selections into the fitting room. I took countless questions into the prayer room of my mind.
What happens in a man's life that he finds himself shopping for a dress?
God, what do you want me to do? to say?
How can I help?
Please, God. Use me.
Help me show Him that you love him by showing him love.
How do I do that?
Oh, dear Jesus. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
Help me.
He came out of the fitting room.
"Do you have a winner?" I asked.
"No. They don't work."
"Is there something else I can help you look for? We have shorts in your size?" I offered.
"What about a shirt?" he asked.
So we chatted while we browsed the rack of men's shirts. Nothing we had in his size suited his taste. We talked about tastes. What are you looking for in a t-shirt? Comfort, I said. Bold colors, he said. A good fit, I said. He agreed.
"Well, nothing for me today. Thanks for helping me," he said.
"What's your name?"
"B****."
"It was nice to meet you. I'm Liz. If you're on Facebook--"
"Naw, I don't do Facebook. People don't need to know that I woke up each day, you know. Nobody would care if I died, so why bother."
My heart broke.
"That's not true. I'd care if you died."
Tears formed in his eyes. "No you wouldn't."
I looked right back at him, feeling my own tears. "Yes, I would."
He looked down.
"Your parents, they're glad you woke up today."
"No, they're dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have any siblings?"
"Yes and no. They don't have anything to do with me. They took my mom from me, wouldn't let me around her when she got sick, wouldn't let me come to the funeral, they don't want me in their lives. I don't have anybody who cares."
"I care about you, B. Will you come back to the store some time?"
"No. I'm just in the area today. I live two hours from here."
"Well, I'm glad you came here today. I hope I get to see you again. I will be very sad if something happened to you. Someone does care. It's me."
He was crying. "Thanks."
He left. I wanted to say, "I love you," but I thought that might creep him out. But I know he felt it. I know he saw it. In my eyes, in my smile, in my authenticity. And that was all. That was all I was called upon to do. I don't know if he realized it, but I feel that God took B two hours away from home so he could meet someone today who cared that he was alive.
I prayed for B. Last night and this morning. And I will continue to call out his name before God.
I hope I see him again. I know that the next time, I will tell him I love him, even if he feels creeped out at first. He'll get over it. And the next time he feels abandoned, unloved, lost, and confused, he can remember that there is a little woman in the world named Liz who didn't preach him a sermon about his dress, who didn't call him out of his name, and who didn't give him physical signs and facial expressions of disgust and repulsion. She just cared. Cared that he was hurting. Cared that he missed his parents. That he never got to say good-bye to his mom. That his siblings don't acknowledge him. She cared that she had met another human being who was hurting, and she showed him some love.
Go, and do thou likewise.
*Pray for B with me.
So, we chatted. Waist size. What's the occasion? Do you have a favorite color? We smiled. I made a few jokes. I talked about what I hate about shopping for a dress. He talked about what he hated when shopping for a dress. Finally, he took two selections into the fitting room. I took countless questions into the prayer room of my mind.
What happens in a man's life that he finds himself shopping for a dress?
God, what do you want me to do? to say?
How can I help?
Please, God. Use me.
Help me show Him that you love him by showing him love.
How do I do that?
Oh, dear Jesus. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
Help me.
He came out of the fitting room.
"Do you have a winner?" I asked.
"No. They don't work."
"Is there something else I can help you look for? We have shorts in your size?" I offered.
"What about a shirt?" he asked.
So we chatted while we browsed the rack of men's shirts. Nothing we had in his size suited his taste. We talked about tastes. What are you looking for in a t-shirt? Comfort, I said. Bold colors, he said. A good fit, I said. He agreed.
"Well, nothing for me today. Thanks for helping me," he said.
"What's your name?"
"B****."
"It was nice to meet you. I'm Liz. If you're on Facebook--"
"Naw, I don't do Facebook. People don't need to know that I woke up each day, you know. Nobody would care if I died, so why bother."
My heart broke.
"That's not true. I'd care if you died."
Tears formed in his eyes. "No you wouldn't."
I looked right back at him, feeling my own tears. "Yes, I would."
He looked down.
"Your parents, they're glad you woke up today."
"No, they're dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have any siblings?"
"Yes and no. They don't have anything to do with me. They took my mom from me, wouldn't let me around her when she got sick, wouldn't let me come to the funeral, they don't want me in their lives. I don't have anybody who cares."
"I care about you, B. Will you come back to the store some time?"
"No. I'm just in the area today. I live two hours from here."
"Well, I'm glad you came here today. I hope I get to see you again. I will be very sad if something happened to you. Someone does care. It's me."
He was crying. "Thanks."
He left. I wanted to say, "I love you," but I thought that might creep him out. But I know he felt it. I know he saw it. In my eyes, in my smile, in my authenticity. And that was all. That was all I was called upon to do. I don't know if he realized it, but I feel that God took B two hours away from home so he could meet someone today who cared that he was alive.
I prayed for B. Last night and this morning. And I will continue to call out his name before God.
I hope I see him again. I know that the next time, I will tell him I love him, even if he feels creeped out at first. He'll get over it. And the next time he feels abandoned, unloved, lost, and confused, he can remember that there is a little woman in the world named Liz who didn't preach him a sermon about his dress, who didn't call him out of his name, and who didn't give him physical signs and facial expressions of disgust and repulsion. She just cared. Cared that he was hurting. Cared that he missed his parents. That he never got to say good-bye to his mom. That his siblings don't acknowledge him. She cared that she had met another human being who was hurting, and she showed him some love.
Go, and do thou likewise.
*Pray for B with me.
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