She came in asking for gas money to help with her son-- his name I remember. He's 16.
But I didn't have anything to give. I offered her a list of other resources to check out, but she
already had that list. I felt a little helpless... and guilty. In the end, all I could was offer to pray for her and her son. And so I took her hands, and began to pray for her. For peace and patience, for strength, for her son, and for support and relief to come... And then the nameless woman left, a tear streaming down her face. I was anxious to move on. To not have to think about NOT helping this woman with what she needed. And yet, I couldn't move on... because she lingered. Her scent, lingered on my hands. In that brief, yet intimate, moment where we held hands and prayed together she left her mark on me. And I could not forget her, nor her story.
It made me think of Mary pouring the extravagent oil over Jesus' head and feet... how the scent must have lingered! The scent of love, of death, of service, of suffering... a reminder of the suffering Jesus was going to experience, an example of simple and pure love of neighbor.
And so it was with the woman I met today. The scent from her suffering hands lingered on mine own long after she was gone. Perhaps so that I am careful not to so easily forget the pain, suffering, and grief of those whom I meet.
~Pastor Alexis
