Ms. Moore

I first saw Ms. Moore last week on my bus.  She looked sharply dressed wearing a pale green suit, white dress shoes and a green and blue headband to match her suit.  Her purse was also white and sat beside her cane.  Her skin was dark and her spine was slightly curved.   She had a smile on her face for anyone who met her gaze.  She seemed kind, gentle and grandmotherly.  I admired her spirit and thought I hope I dress that sharp at her age and give off vibes of kindness.  My bus stop approached and I exited, walking past her and leaving any thoughts of her on the bus.

Today was different.  Today I met Ms. Moore.

I saw her again this morning, in a baby blue suit and white beret.  She was (again) on the bus before me and I could see her a few seats in front of me.  She smiled at the oncoming passengers and the baby dozing beside her. I sat there and watched her and thought that if I were closer I'd talk to her.  But when my stop came, I exited without a word.

It wasn't until I saw her again at the bus stop this evening, however, that I felt led to introduce myself.  It was 9:30 and dark.  She walked slowly up the hill to our stop, leaning on the bus sign when she stopped.  She was wearing the same outfit as I'd seen on her this morning and I thought she's had a long day.  I almost didn't say anything to her, but then realized I was being ridiculous.  She's right here.  You wanted to talk to her earlier- now's your chance.  So, I walked up to her, introduced myself and complimented her attire.

I didn't know those words would be the first that we'd share for the next 1.5 hours.

Ms. Moore is 80 (as of April 2nd) and has lived longer than anyone in her immediate family.  She told me this with a grin on her face as she clapped her hands together.  When we got on the bus, I noticed that her eyes were a little lighter blue than her suit.  She's the only one in her family with blue eyes and blames someone "messing in her cabbage patch", which I translated as a white ancestor in the mix along the way through history.  "I have the darkest skin in my family and the lightest eyes.  It doesn't matter though.  One day, we'll all be the same race. In the Kingdom.  One day it won't matter."  I nodded.

She'd been at the hospital all day while her doctors examined her heart.  All she'd had was some cranberry juice and graham crackers.  "Denny's has the best salads.  I've been thinking about one all day.  They are SO good.  Fresh.  They have delicious tomatoes and onions.  Crisp yellow peppers too."  Her sparkling blue eyes were in another place... at a booth at Denny's with a fried chicken salad in front of her.

When I learned that she'd be waiting for a connecting bus to take her home after a full day at a stale hospital, I knew that wouldn't do.  This lady needed some Denny's!  Call me crazy, but I told her I'd drive her there.

And I did.

Our bus dropped us off, we slowly walked the three blocks to my house (she wouldn't wait at the stop though I offered to come get her) and got in my car shortly after ten p.m.  Crazy, right?

Anyway, I learned about her grandchildren, the "mother-in-law from hell" that she had for three years, about her "baby sister" who is a survivor of skin cancer and her church, the first black Lutheran church in DC, which was established by her mother who didn't want to christen her baby (Ms. Moore) in the YWCA where they used to meet.  We chatted about Denny's, the waiters and waitresses there who have come to know her and bring stuff by her house.  More about her great-granddaughter who looks like a little doll.  She told me about "friends and family" day at her church and said she wanted me to come.

She asked me my name again.  "I'm related to some Duncans.  They intermarried with the Fergusons."  She said this like I knew the Fergusons as well.  I nodded.  Maybe one of my distant relatives messed in her family's cabbage patch?  Maybe we were even related.

After Denny's, I had to stop for some gas on the way to my new friend's house.  A homeless man approached me and asked to pump my gas for cash.  I handed him some cash, dismissed his offer and he walked away.  I turned back around and saw that Ms. Moore was standing on her side of the car.  She was looking in the direction that he had gone.

"I was going to hit him on his head with my cane if he tried anything," she said solemnly as she met my gaze.

I smiled with raised eyebrows. "You were going to protect me?"

"I'm not really much of a fighter.  I prefer to negotiate.  But sometimes you have to fight.  I was ready."  I looked at her face and saw her determination.  She could probably mess the wrong person up with her cane!

I dropped her off at her house and made my way home, feeling blessed by her company.  We exchanged numbers and she insisted I call when I got home to let her know I'd made it safely (which I did!).

"I want you to meet my grandchildren," she said.  "I'm going to call you for friends and family day."

I hope she does.

A Plan for Thailand

Since the spring I've been looking forward to hearing about the mission opportunities that my church is doing.  I love my church and am blessed to be part of one that is so purposeful about community and helping others.  Last month the leaders announced all of the trips for the upcoming fall and spring.  Check out all the options!!

I have never done a mission trip that's taken me abroad.  I've done local ones through the years, but nothing that has taken me truly out of my element and forced me into a completely different world.  Before they announced the trip options, I knew that I would be looking for that kind of experience... something raw, totally new and one where I can reach out to those who don't get much love.

I've identified some of my heart cries.  And by heart cries, I mean the people, causes and movements in every day life that stir within my being.  They make me pay attention and listen and they prick my spirit.  My heart cries are for the voiceless, the looked-over and picked-on.  The forgotten and abandoned.  The poor.  The single moms.  People suffering from HIV/AIDS.  Women.  The less educated and the abused.  My prayer lately has been for my heart to break at what breaks God's heart.  You know what?  There's a lot of brokenness out there.

It was by these heart cries that I narrowed down my search for a mission trip and on Sunday I went to the first information meeting about it.  My attraction to this trip: brokenness, but the hopefulness of transformation.  The trip is to a land where I've had no intentions or desires to ever visit: Thailand.  The people we are hoping to reach are the girls and women who are working in clubs and brothels in Bangkok.  Our desire is to approach these women as Christ did the woman at the well in John 4- with love, without judgment and with truth.  We want to connect them with an organization called The Well, which provides an escape for women who want to get out of the sex industry.  The Well provides counseling, education, job training and love to women who dream of a better life.

This 10-day trip basically wraps up all of my heart cries into one amazing opportunity.  It seems SUPER intense and even a bit scary.  The idea of approaching women in the red light district of Bangkok is not something I would have ever thought to do.  Aren't these the women that society tells us to ignore?  Yet these are the women God is calling me to.  My desire is to share the love of a God who gives second chances (and third and fourth!), to show the love only He can and to provide a glimpse of the mercy that He wants to shine upon them.  He's not a God of doubt, disease, addiction, low self-esteem or abandonment.  His plan is one of hope and a future, of prosperity and safety.

So, that's my plan: Thailand.  I'm really excited about this opportunity and look forward to sharing more details as they unravel.  I hope that I will be able to even write about my experiences as they come to fruition.