We are all the same...

“I can’t read real good…and people make fun of me.”

A single tear ran down my check as I listened to a sweet lady…grey in her hair, lots on her mind.

“I really never said that to nobody. I figure no one cares. But, for some reason, I felt ok tellin’ you.”

My heart ached as I listened intently, careful not be distracted by all that was going on around me. A gift I take for granted…that she longed for…

We embraced. And she went on her way. My heart stayed right there.

Until…

I found myself seated by a leather coated grandma with a weathered face. She told me about her kids from eyes that had forgotten how to dance.

“Life don’t treat me good, sometimes.”

The deep lines in her face told the story of pain and struggle. Addiction and hopelessness.

Just in front of her, another grandma, who told the story of crack addiction that took her kids and almost claimed her life.

I was charged with speaking to this group of women. A group that had seen things that I had never seen. 

Experienced that which I’d only read about on the front page of the paper.

My knees tried to buckle as I rose for my assignment. I wondered what in the world I would say to these ladies.

And I realized, we are all the same.

In that moment, God showed me that there are women living in mansions that are homeless in their heart. Addicted to buying and having, trying to fill that void that seems to get emptier with every swipe of her credit card.

There are women on the pews of my church who are restless wanderers, longing to know someone cares. Looking to status or activity to finally tell them who they are. That they are loved, valued.

There are people like me, broken and rejected women who need to be bathed in the grace that Christ offers. 

Battered and abused by life, women who need to be held in the arms of a loving God.

We are all hungry. Feeding on the things we think will satisfy.

Or numb.

Or help us cope.

Or help us avoid the aching emptiness that taunts us.

Her face is etched in my mind. 

Her story, written on my heart.

Her faith, a lesson to me.

I know where I will sleep tonight. She doesn’t.

That’s faith.

We are all the same. In desperate need of a Savior.