praying

I prayed with a woman today. It was my first opportunity to do so. She wasn’t a guest at the outreach center. I was walking to the Marta station after leaving work, and when I stopped at the corner to wait for the light to change I got out my cell phone to call my mom. This lady called out “Excuse me, Miss,” and then she started saying how thankful she was that she found me, Before I realized what she was asking me, she started reading out a phone number, 678……. So, I decided to dial it and handed her my phone. When the person on the other end answered, the lady sounded so desperate as she tried to describe her current location. When she hung up and handed me the phone, I wasn’t sure what to do. She told me about her friend who was a t the Marta station and said he was headed over to meet her, but shared with me that she didn’t know if he’d actually come. She said she was pregnant and needed to sit down, and then she took a seat on the stoop outside the Catholic church. I stood in front of her and she lifted her shirt to show me her slightly enlarged belly with stretch marks. I still didn’t know what to do, but asked her where she was staying. She didn’t give me a direct answer, which I had learned was common for folks who move around a lot-they aren’t likely to say, “Well last night I slept on the sidewalk next to a tree.” Oftentimes when I ask the question, “where are you currently staying?”, and I ask that quite a bit as part of my job, I get answers that speak more to where the person was staying a week or a month ago. This also can be a very leading question; I have found that it can open space for someone to share their struggle with me-how they were evicted or kicked out by their son’s wife and traveled to Atlanta from across the country to try finding a new place to call home. Along the way they may have been robbed of all of their possessions or have nothing left after being released from prison. So, this pregnant woman begins to tell me part of her story-how she has stayed in a few shelters but couldn’t/didn’t want to go back. She said several times that she was hungry and was afraid she might have to sleep on the street tonight. I asked her about a few shelters I knew took in women, but it was already 5:30pm and she reminded me that they had already started taking in people for the night. Now, I have this personal thing that I don’t like giving people money; however, I don’t mind buying someone a meal or something specific they need. After her phone conversation with the unreliable guy friend, during which she had said to him that she had some “good stuff” for him, she asked me for money, and I said no. Yes, this was a lie, and looking back on it, maybe I should have given her the few dollar bills in my wallet, but at the time I felt that she was not going to use the money for food. Anyway, after some more back and forth conversation about night shelters and me finally asking her name, I asked her if I could pray with her. I’m not sure why I did, but it seemed like the only thing of real substance I could offer her. She said yes, and I sat next to her on the church stoop. I took her left hand and held it between both of mine and closed my eyes. I was a little scared and I had no idea what I was going to pray, but I did it even so. My words were something about how I didn’t have much to offer but I asked God to hold her in God’s hand and to let her know even when she can’t depend on the people around her or on a shelter, she can know she is not alone-God is with her. There were some more shaky sentences I can’t even remember, but I ended with, “Please continue to hold Ieshia in the palm of your hand. Amen.” When I opened my eyes, she glanced at me and said, “thank you,” then turned to the intersection saying she thought she saw her friend. She strained her neck to see around all of the cars passing by, but then shrugged her shoulders and stopped looking for him. A large bus had stopped at the light, blocking our view of the sidewalk, and although the light was red, I kept staring in the direction, wondering what I was going to do if he never showed up. Then the light turned green and the bus took off around the corner. A man started walking across the street and she looked up and then exclaimed “that’s my friend, he’s here!” When she turned back toward me I realized she had been crying and (at this point I was standing up beside the stoop on which she was still seated) I asked her what was wrong. She said my prayer had made her all mushy and she began crying even harder. I tried to comfort her, putting my hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into me, resting her head on my side. When the guy walked up to us he immediately asked if she was ok and I explained for her that she was okay, just a bit emotional. She told him we had just finished praying and then she turned and gave me a hug, thanking me again for praying with her. The friend also gave me a hug and then they hugged. It was all so strange yet beautiful. They started walking away and I headed back to the intersection to wait for the light to change. We waved goodbye and I crossed the street.