Last night, I went to a pretty amazing home group, and while I was there, a man spoke two words over me. The second word was so profound: “that I was an extravagant worshiper.” It was so right on that I forgot what the first word was, until today.
On my late afternoon break, I walked up the street a block towards the mailbox to mail some things. On my way, I noticed an old woman sitting on some steps outside of the nursing home. I looked at her and smiled but saw that she was lost in the skirt I was wearing. The look in her eyes was as if she was wearing the skirt, dancing, twirling in her mind. It was one of the sweetest things I had ever seen…too sweet to pass by twice, so on my way back from the mailbox, I approached her.
I gently went up to her to say hello, and she couldn’t help but say, “That’s a beautiful skirt. I didn’t think they made such beautiful things anymore.” I asked her her name, told her mine, and sat at her feet. What a perfect time to take a break, and who better to spend it with!
We began to talk about the nursing home, what weather she liked, the food. She seemed so happy to be sitting with me. When one of her friends from the nursing home would pass by, she would say, “This beautiful lady sat to talk with me.” She was so kind. I asked her what her favorite memory of life was. She said there were too many to choose from. We talked about Jesus. She talked about her last days. It was just so welcoming, so inviting, so pleasant, but time seemed to fly by.
As my break was ending, she stood to hug me and said, “What a beautiful skirt,” as if she had forgotten about it. I hugged her long and told her I’d come back to chat with her and went on my way.
As I was walking, I began to cry because I felt her loneliness, and at that moment, God reminded me of the first word I had received the night before: “that I had a gift of intercessory, a gift to take on other’s burdens and give them to Him.” I also felt a bit of sadness because there’s a chance I will grow old alone, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. The truth is I’m never alone, and neither is Jeanette. I was so happy to meet her. I hope to visit her, at least, once a week.