She Asked Me For Money

We must have met at the homeless shelter. But I don't remember that. I've met so many women on our outreach nights, and recall only a handful of names. Hers was not one of them.

I didn't see her.

After she got into her own housing, she kept coming to our downtown church faithfully. I began to sit next to her and we made small talk. It always ended with a quiet, almost shy request, "You don't have any extra money for the bus, do you?". My answer,"No, I don't have any cash on me" was both honest and relieved, because I really didn't feel comfortable giving her money. What would she "really" use it for? Did she have an addiction? Wouldn't I just be continuing a cycle of dependence? Amazing how prudent I can be when faced with the thought of parting with my cash.

I saw her as a toll booth operator; she was going to ask me for something every time I passed.

One night, things changed. I prayed with her. As I asked God to put her into a family, I knew it was meant to be ours.

I began to see her as a person.

She asked me for money for her medicine. So I took her to the pharmacy and bought it for her. She was grateful but couldn't help but ask me for more when I took her home; the automatic reflex of a person who'd lived on the streets for a long time. She apologized after asking, "I'm sorry. I've been alone for so long, I forget how to act. Thank-you for helping me today."

I saw her as a survivor; and I understood.

She asked me for money to do her laundry. So I took her to my house to use our washer and dryer. The first time, she had a truckload of clothes to wash, and in between loads she napped on the floor, as if tired from wearing them all. When I took her home, she said, "Thank-you so much. It was so nice to just be in your home and rest. You all been real good to me."

I saw her as a woman with a story worth knowing; and I related.

She asked me for money for cigarettes. So I prayed with her for release from an addiction she does not want in her life.

I saw her as a follower of Jesus longing to be more free; just like me.

That was the last time she asked me for money.

One day, things changed again. I blessed her. She asked me for hair dye.

I wrestled.

I told her I'd rather she just get groceries with the $20 I had to share with her. So she put the hair dye away. I kept shopping, but it nagged at me. She didn't "need" hair dye, right? She needed food.

And then I knew. I thought of the woman who poured out her expensive perfume on Jesus' feet. His friends were upset because they thought so much more good could have been done with the money from selling that perfume. But Jesus was blessed and honored by her sacrifice. She had worshiped Him by giving Him her best.

Somehow, hair dye didn't seem quite as extravagant.

I saw my friend as a worshiper; same as me.

Her desire to do something pretty with her hair was not out of a place of vanity, but of worship. She wanted to reflect the beauty Jesus sees in her.

He sees and loves people well.

And I am beginning to.