Journal 2018

Yesterday I parked at our downtown library and was walking to the City Cafe for lunch when I met a little old lady on the street corner. I smiled and greeted her as I passed by, but she called after me, “Could you give me a ride home?” She lived on such-and-such a street, just .8 miles away, about a 17-minute walk if one was in good health.

“I’m 70 years old,” she declared, “And I’m tired, and people just laugh at me when I ask them, and I need money for my medicine. If you can’t help me, will you pray for me?”

I asked her a few questions. She lives alone, no family in town. Two daughters live up North who don’t speak to her. Her Social Security check doesn’t arrive till Wednesday. She needs her meds for seizures.

Yes, I’d gladly give her a ride. She looked so frail, like a slight breeze would topple her over. I urged her to sit on a nearby park bench while I walked back to the parking garage to get my car. Lunch would have to wait.

On the short drive to her house, she thanked me again and again, prattling, “I just want to tell people what God has done for me. (He’d spared her life after a major health issue.) I put up a homemade flag on my house that reads ‘God loves everybody. Amen.’ But twice people have torn it down and painted over it, and I made a third one. My apartment neighbor doesn’t like me. He won’t like it if you park in his driveway. I like to sing!”

“What’s your favorite song?” I interjected, and she burst into song, strong but wavering, “How great Thou art.” And later, “Because He lives…” And I sang along with her.

Her meds cost $25. I gave her $32, all the cash in my wallet. She burst into tears. “Now I can get my medicine! I think I’ll just sit on my porch and sing,” she said as I helped her out of the car.

“May I take your picture so I can remember to pray for you?” I asked.

With a funny little grin, her hands flew up to her frizzy hair as if to make sure she looked presentable, lifted her chin, and smiled for the camera.

Though I’ve been hoodwinked, scammed, and taken advantage of in the past, I continue to be generous to strangers if God asks me to. Sometimes I’m proactive in my ministry goals. Sometimes God simply guides my feet. I wish I’d prayed with her. I’m praying now that God will supply all her need and continue to give her courage.

A 2025 Update. Now that I’ve passed the 70-year milestone myself, I have to smile at my “little old lady” perception. I never saw her again. I never felt a nudge from the Lord to return to her house, and I sometimes wonder what happened to her.

This is my sweet friend, Grandma Vera, not the person I met downtown. But she loves to sit on her porch, and she loves to sing.