We met just a few months ago, following a phone call from her sister asking if we could help out with some furniture; a bed, a dresser, maybe some dishes. Rachel was a "rescue" from an abusive relationship, and her sister was helping her set up housekeeping in an itsy bitsy, shoebox-sized studio apartment. We gladly filled the place up.We have little in common, but share a mutual love for God. This love is new for Rachel. She only learned about Jesus last September (until then she just knew that he was "some guy that died on a cross"), and she'd never opened a bible until last December. I've been "saved" since 1971 and studying the bible for over forty years ~ yet, I learn something new from Rachel every time I visit.
A friendship, of sorts, has begun to take hold between the two of us. Friendship is two words, she explains, friend and ship. "Ship means you carry things back and forth to each other." Ahh.
She has no car, she doesn't work, or have a television. Her life is uncomplicated, uncluttered, and undistracted. She spends her day reading the bible, journaling, collecting seashells as she strolls on the beach talking
Yesterday she packed a lunch for a homeless man that frequents a certain spot, and set out to find him. As it turned out, though, he wasn't to be found. Instead, on the way home, she encountered another homeless man walking down the street with hands lifted to the heavens, calling out "super food!". He gladly accepted her meal ~ telling her he was going to share it with a friend. "God bless you", they said to each other as they parted.
Shortly after returning home she received a call from an acquaintance, who offered to take her to the laundromat if she was ready. She was, and off they went. She had several loads to do, and she and her friend sat and talked and folded towels.
He asked if she could give him some money; he was hungry. He told her someone had given him some food but he thought is was poisoned because it smelled like fish. She figured he was on drugs ~ in fact she KNEW he was. She knew because she'd been on drugs herself until just a few months ago. She spoke his 'language' and told him he needed to go to the "Jesus party". He actually listened to her; he wanted to be free. They talked a while longer, she encouraged him, and finally took him by the hand and prayed for him.
Then, she asked if he would like her to check his food and see if it was okay to eat. She opened the bag. It was the lunch she had packed for the homeless man and had instead given to the stranger who was going to share it with a friend.
She assured him it was quite safe to eat, it was tuna and she'd made it herself.
Rachel is 65, lives in her "mansion by the sea", with her little dog Jake.
My visits with her are among my favorite things.
Counting My Blessings,
