Category: Spiritual

I write this final episode of my series “Who Runs Across Your Path” with a sense of sadness. The story ends unexpectedly.

A couple of summers ago my husband and I were attending our church’s Independence Day and military appreciation service. We had a guest with us and the auditorium was packed.  We were seated in a section different from our usual spot.  Amid the patriotic music and special features, I noticed a woman sitting a few seats away.  She was alone.  Her attire suggested to me that she was not American-born.  As the service progressed, the woman remained on my mind.  I wondered if she had a family or any connections within our church.  Maybe she was just visiting that Sunday.  Towards the end of the hour, I realized my husband and I would be rushing out with the crowd; we were taking our guest to lunch.  I got one of my teacher business cards out of my purse and jotted down my phone number and email.  I added a note that went something like, “If you need any help, please give me a call.”  As the postlude, “Stars and Stripes Forever” began, we hurried out and I handed the woman my note.

Two weeks later I had an email in my Inbox; subject line: My Angel.  (See blog post “Once, Twice, Three Times an Angel”  09/29/16).  It was the woman from church.  She wrote that she had been praying for some help.  My offer was divine intervention for her!  Through email, we made plans to meet at church in a few Sundays.  Our first visit went very well.  She was easy to talk to and there was plenty for us to find out.  I had offered to help and her ‘need’ was to embark on a jewelry creation she envisioned.  I have no experience in jewelry-making so I knew I was not that answer for her.  We did, however, chat over her ideas and how she might accomplish them.

We continued to meet on Sundays. Her name was Fatima.  She worked as a nanny and had been living in the area for about 20 years.  She had first come to the States with Indian diplomats providing childcare.  Fatima had been widowed very young and diplomatic employment was a good way to support her young child.  She left a little daughter in India with her mother to make a living for them.  As the years went on, she nannied for different families.  Now, her immigration status was undocumented but good work for her back in India was scarce.  Nannying had allowed Fatima to provide well for her daughter, who was now grown and practicing law in India.  There was a strange way in which I was getting to know Fatima’s daughter at this time too.  When I would email Fatima to plan to meet or check in on her, I was actually emailing her daughter.  Her daughter would read the email to her mom on the phone and Fatima would tell her how to reply to me!

Then a season of great difficulty beset Fatima. The children she cared for outgrew the need for a nanny.  The family tried to assist her with finding a new job but in a changing world of more daycares and increased focus on immigrant status, nothing materialized.  She had occasional babysitting jobs but little else.  Local relatives did not give help.  I connected Fatima with an immigration lawyer at church but there were few options.  I still saw her at church where we talked and prayed.  At one point she was hired as a live-in for a family but they were cruel and overworked her and refused to give her food.  Fatima suffered again.  How could I help this soul who just ‘ran across my path’?  We offered to bring her to our home for a weekend.  I gave her grocery money.  Sitting with her, talking and listening did the most good I think. Proverbs 17:17 says, “A friend loveth at all times and a brother is born for adversity.”  She was encouraged and not alone; she kept her faith.

Eventually a promising live-in nanny position came up. She moved in with a kind family.  They treated her well and she loved caring for their young children.  They began to teach her computer skills which she enjoyed.  She had scheduled days off for rest, during which she told me she loved to read the Bible.  My friend was now in a safe and hopeful place.  Her new dream was to save up enough money to return to India and live with her adult daughter.

Things turned out unexpectedly. I got an email from Fatima’s daughter telling me she had died.  Fatima became ill and her employing family took her for medical treatment but she passed away a short time later at their home. I think years of hardship had weakened her small frame and Fatima’s body could fight no longer.  The daughter immediately filed paperwork for a visa to come to the US.  About 10 days later she arrived in the States and stayed with local family.  Fatima’s present and former employing families shared much information about Fatima’s life and work with her daughter.  The daughter also visited church and met Fatima’s friends.  She gathered her mother’s things, completed paperwork, and received her mother’s ashes.

I met Fatima’s daughter and her cousin for coffee. She looked like her mother and I recognized the smile and laugh.  We talked lightly; I did not know how much her mother had divulged about her past hardships. I offered my condolences to a daughter who had barely been with her mother.  But Fatima had greatly loved and sustained her only child from afar.

Who runs across your path? A lot of people do.  We can’t touch them all but when God prompts you to reach out, do it!  Through it, God uses you, He teaches you, and He blesses you.   Amen.

This is the second story in my series about the random intersection of lives. Our paths intersect with other people’s paths and this sometimes leads to opportunity.  My first story was a runner’s story but we cross ways with souls no matter how we’re moving.

The free Continental breakfast offered at many American motels is the modern version of Canterbury Tales.  Chaucer’s characters were on a pilgrimage and their life stories and personalities met as they progressed toward their destination.  At the hotel breakfast bar, travelers usually don’t have the same destination, but they do have being on the road in common.  Fairly easily, I’ve observed, folks tend to talk over the cheap pastries and boxed cereal; stories emerge.

We were out of town overnight, taking advantage of the free breakfast in the lobby, when I began to catch on to a conversation near me. I much prefer people watching over the din of TV’s streaming network news.  Two travelers struck up a conversation.  The one, whom I will call a Listener, asked the other about her travels.  She responded by saying that her son and his girlfriend had been in a motorcycle accident.  The Mother’s son was transported to the nearby university hospital and she was staying at the motel in order to visit her son.  The Listener took very serious interest in the Mother’s story.  She dug up all the information about the crash and the injuries sustained.  The Mother shared the involved story without hesitation.  I imagine that being away from home, she hadn’t had anyone to talk to in person about the accident, except busy hospital staff.

Then the Listener’s husband showed up at breakfast. The Listener immediately began to recount the Mother’s saga to him.  In great detail, she filled him in on the Mother’s situation staying at the hotel and explained the son’s injuries.  At one point I saw her pointing to her leg, verifying with the Mother, the son’s condition.  Repeating the story with such passion and detail validated the Mother’s distress and communicated tremendous empathy.

At this point, it was time for us to leave and continue our journey. I was left wondering why the Listener had stepped into the Mother’s story.   The Listener, while clearly the personable type, did not strike me as nosy.  Her chattiness seemed genuine and she really did focus on all that the Mother had been through.  I did not get to see the end so I don’t know if the Listener got involved at a more material or spiritual level but  I am sure that the Mother left the breakfast bar full, not just from breakfast, but satisfied because someone cared enough to hear her heart.

The Bible says we are to “mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15) and that is just what the Listener did for the Mother. Tears often draw tears from others.  We are sensitive to loss and we express sympathy.  But that Scripture text begins with the words “Rejoice with those who rejoice” (Romans 12:15).  It is not so easy to join in the happiness and success of others, especially if things aren’t going well for us.  I recall my Pastor sharing about this difficulty.  As an infant, his daughter developed a severe and life-threatening condition.  He and his wife saw many specialist doctors and he told how in one waiting room, they conversed with another family.  The other family had come for a follow-up appointment after their child had recovered.  My pastor told how hard it was to rejoice with them when the outcome had not been the same for his suffering daughter.

As our paths cross with the lives and stories of others, we will encounter both their joys and sorrows. God asks us to join them in the moment.  Be hopeful too, that God will send you sojourners to share your paths of joy or sorrow.

For another story where distressed travelers encountered Someone who cared, see Luke 24: 13-35.