Thoughts on life, the Lord, and everything in between.

And it’s enough.

She’s illuminated by the streetlight above us, the jacket hanging off her thin body. She’s talking to me about my eyes and the dress I’m wearing until she comes a little closer. Her hands are moving quicker than her words and she asks for some change for a muffin.

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I am so quick to classify her by her lack of a home, until that night, under the streetlight, I ask her her name.

Sarah.

And she’s no longer a person who lives on the street –

she’s a woman who has a heart, a story,

a name.

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A name that means princess.

And in a moment my heart changes, and love overflows. Compassion. The words that have been following me for days – what if she’s doing the best she can? What if? Would I see her differently? Would I offer her the bus tokens in my purse, the only change I’m carrying?

I do. I do. And it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

So I hold her close and I pull her in to hug her. Three times. And she holds onto me, and I onto her and for a brief moment it feels enough.

And for a moment we are just two women

doing the best we can.




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