She

Yes, I sneakily took a picture. You can judge me.

There is a lady that sometimes comes up to me at church when I visit home. Wary eyes look away, trying not to make contact with hers so she won't see an invitation to come tell her stories. She is avoided, ignored, shunned. She knows my name and details about me, but I have no idea where I could have met her before. It's like she appeared out of no where. She stepped into my life one day. And she is beautiful.

Maybe she is avoided because of the large hump on her back. Maybe it's because she dresses in a crossing guard outfit with a matted, fax fur ski jacket every single day for no apparent reason. Maybe it's because once she starts talking to you, she will not stop. I will be talking in a group of friends and she will just stand, waiting. You think she will walk away after a bit. She won't.

Last week I went to church in my hometown, and she was there. As usual, she found me in a moment when I wasn't with anyone. As usual, she bombarded me with words. As usual I stood there, politely listening, smiling and nodding, looking for a way to escape. But then I did something different. I listened. And it was beautiful.

She talked about how Christ was the reason she lived. She talked about a dream she had of Jesus being taller then a high rise building, rising out of the ocean with shingles falling off his skin. She talked about a book she had been reading about a little boy who had seen Heaven, and how I would like it too. She talked about how Jesus was so much better than the Statue of Liberty. She talked about how God had spoken to her, about how her life was changed, and asked if that had ever happened to me. She talked about how she wanted to visit the Mediterranean Sea and be baptized like Jesus was. She talked about living life alive instead of living life a lie. She talked, I listened.

Her eyes came alive and sparkled brighter every time she said the name "Jesus." Mine filled with tears. Her words came from her heart and touched mine. Her throat moved up and down with the vibration of sound pouring from her lips. My throat choked up at how no one took the time to notice how beautiful she is. People were literally walking around her, going through the motions of "church" and "Christianity," but passing by the purest form of Christ that was standing right in front of them.

I wish I could take her to lunch. Buy her a puppy or a Ferrari. But frankly, she would probably be no happier then she is now, because she gets it. Her life is more fulfilled then the people who travel the world, win the Nobel Prize or get sponsored by Quicksilver. She gets the depth of life that is available through Christ. She knows the choice of untouched, unexplainable joy. And that is all she needs.

There are so many shes around us. She is the grandmother with the outdated puns who is always dragging you to brunch. The one that mentions the "good taste in your clothes" every time you spill something on your shirt. She is the lady with oxygen tubes up her nose waiting for someone to come visit her so she can tell them the common sense that she calls "life advice." She is the five-year-old wanting to tell you about the idea she has for an invention. Listen. She is Beautiful.

I can guarantee this truth: Whatever you did for one of my brothers or sisters, 

no matter how unimportant [they seemed], you did for Me.
Matthew 25:40