I had gone shopping for one of the granddaughter’s birthday. I parked on the parking lot, got out and began my walk in the hot July sun toward the store. I caught a glimpse of an older van parked a few feet away and a lady sitting in the driver’s seat with the door open. The oddity was a sun viser blocking the open door. Being on a mission I didn’t even give it a second thought.

The store wasn’t crowded so I looked around, saw several things that a young girl would possibly like, made my purchase and feeling good about how quickly I maneuvered this shopping trip, returned to the car.  Just as I opened the door to put my bag in, a soft, kind voice seemed to call out. I stood up, looked over the top of the car when I heard it again, this time realizing it was coming from behind. “Excuse me,” she repeated. “Will you pray for me?”  It was the lady in the van.

Putting away my purchase, turning toward the parked van, I slowly eased toward her. Getting closer I could see she lived in her van; it held what appeared to be all her worldly goods. I wish I could say I willingly walked toward her but caution took over. “I know you know Jesus,” she smiled, “and I need prayer.”  Puzzled, I wondered how she came to the conclusion I knew Jesus? Then I remembered the tee shirt I was wearing: Rooted in Christ; I’d say that was a give-a-way!

“How may I pray for you?” again, being cautious, as I inched toward her. “I live in this van,” she said. I had already surmised that; through the windows I could see “stuff” of all kinds; but it was the dashboard that caught my full attention. Two open Bibles lay opened, face up across the dash; they were worn and stained. The sun viser covered her from anyone having a visual inside to see her fully. “I really want prayer,” her voice was so soft and my hearing is not as good as it once was, but I heard that and saw her kind smile.

We are living in the time of Covid; touching, hugging, are considered unsafe and jeopardizing. Face masks are equally separating us .We are being conditioned to be scared of each other; keep a “healthy” distance we hear daily. Yet here was an older woman asking for prayer and someone to care enough to speak encouragement into her life.  I stood at a distance and prayed for her. When I finished, she thanked me and said that was what she needed. Walking back to my car, opening the door, I heard the Lord say, “You can do better than that!” It’s one thing to be “busted” by a grandchild, which they call me out often, but to know the Lord I love and want to please was not pleased was a whole new kind of “busted”!  Rummaging through my purse, I found a $20 which is unusual since cards now replace cash. Clutching it in my hand I walked back to the van and this time fear and caution were not my sidekicks!  I pushed the door open, reached in, intentionally took hold of her hand with a soft but firm grip, placed the money in her palm and said,” Now let’s really pray!” She was startled but the tears began to stream. Holding her hand lovingly in my own, I prayed!

“I’m not asking for money,” she cried. “I just wanted you to pray for me and you did that.”

“No, you didn’t ask for money; I can’t fix all your issues, but I can buy you a meal!  Today you will eat and God will do the rest that I can’t!” I began to tell her He has a plan for her life and living in a van on a parking lot wasn’t it! “I do not have the resources to change this but God does! So we will pray for God to open doors that only He can open and close the doors He can close!” Having her full attention, I reminded her she’s a daughter of the King and He doesn’t want His daughter living like this.”  All the while I was holding her hand hoping she felt loved.

I don’t know the particulars of her life; she is older and it was evident hard times, and maybe poor decisions had not served her well; she didn’t need judgement or a blame game; I’m pretty sure she had experienced plenty of that.   But she loves Jesus. More importantly, He loves her to the point He died for her to live. My job was to remind her and stir the hope within.

Like others, I tend to be skeptical. I began a long time ago asking God to give me wisdom on who and when to help. More beggars seem to be on every street corner and often we aren’t sure if we are helping them or even enabling a possible addiction.  I’ve read stories that some people going to work get an extra breakfast at the drive through and give a meal instead of money.  Caring and helping, for most of us is not the issue.

I came to the reality years ago that God did not call me to be a savior but He gives me opportunities to let others know there is a Savior Who can do what no human being can. My job is to be available when He nudges me.

Daily I pray for her. What I want to do is fix things. God has never asked me to fix anyone but He has asked me to represent Him. That is my calling; to be light in the darkness. She asked for prayer; I could do that, and I could buy her a meal. So I did that, too. I’ve learned instead of looking at the overwhelming big picture, zero in on what’s in my hand at the time and use that.

That day I drove home talking all the way to Jesus! “That is your daughter,” I repeated. “She needs to be reminded she’s the daughter of a King!”

Then I realized she was reminded. And He chose me to tell her.