Opportunity To Bless?
I missed a moment to bless someone.
So I searched for my homeless friend after I came to my senses (or so, I thought I was supposed to do this), looking in all the right places. But I never found him.
But thankfully, I continued in reaching out to others on the street, scaring a man when I drove down the wrong side of the street. Once he realized we’d met last week, he was grateful for our few minutes—as I was, too.
Turn to Another Opportunity
I then, ran into a friend (who’s been out-of-town), who I once gave a steak meal to, on a day when the Lord urged me to—on a day when I obeyed God.
Oddly enough, he waved at me first, before I got out of the car. I asked him, “How did you know it was me?”
“You smiled at me like you remembered me.”
I hugged him. “I do remember you. Tell me, what’s going on with your life?”
He shared the broken pieces in his family, the part with the police, the longing to belong, the how two-wrongs don’t make a right.
As we stood talking, a man wobbled by the building, so I quizzed my friend. “Is he hungry?”
“He might be, but if you give him a gift card, he’ll sell it for money. He’s just a drunk.”
“But, don’t drunks get hungry?”
“Yes, I suppose they do.”
“Then here.” I gave him a couple more gift cards for his friend. “You’re in charge of buying his lunch.”
“Yes, ma’m.” He grinned at me like he could be my son. “I’ll get him a burger and fries.”
The man I didn’t know moved closer, staring at us, not speaking, lost in his world of not-so-sober-on-a-Saturday stupor. Wayne called to him, “Hey, Ms. Pam’s making sure you eat today. You better thank her.”
The man wiggled like rubber band. “Thank you. I am hungry.”
I slugged my friend. “See, I told you he was hungry.”
“I get it. You’re right.”
We lingered for a bit, and I prayed for guidance from the Lord for Wayne, telling him. “I’ll see you soon.”
He reached for my neck. “It was great to talk to someone who isn’t running me off.”
As I left the parking lot, I pondered how one moment I was whining about not listening to God—only to find myself, minutes later, praising God for opportunities to share the gospel.
Inside the car, I reached for my handkerchief, and touched inside my pocket—a handful of scripture cards. Fumbling for something to wipe my nose, I dried my face, remembering “what I had done” earlier — you know, with the homeless friend that I felt like I ignored.
I remembered how I offered to pray for him even though I couldn’t help him with his pressing need—and how he said “yes” to prayer.
That’s when I had a revelation. For you see, it’s not up to me to solve anything! God’s the answer to our tainted hearts. To our sin. To our missteps. To our hungry soul. To our needs.
My friend had told me, “Thank you for praying. I should have done that already.”
So I’m hoping and praying—the need was met in exactly the way it should have been—with my friend (and me) relying on God … for the answer.