She came and poured out her heart to a bunch of strangers at a prayer meeting in a church she’s never been to before.
Her thirst for community was as tangible as the hard plastic chairs we sat on.
The tears threatened to fall.
She asked for my number and permission to call me for prayers.
I gave her my yes.
A lifespan separated us. She’s married. I’m single. She’s a mom. I’m not. Her family’s in another country. Mine’s right where I am. She’s lived to work, worked as a SAHM, and worked to lived. I don’t always feel like my life has begun.
Which was why I panicked when she asked for my number. What have I to offer her?
But just as quickly I knew the answer. My yes was what I had to offer. My yes to prayer. My yes to listen. My yes to community.
She didn’t need my number. She needed the love of God felt through my yes. She was brave enough to ask for it. I had to be brave enough to give it.
