Last night a young lady ran up to me on duty to get my attention. It took me second to recognize who she was. She looked different, healthier.
She said with excitement,
“Ms. Hanna! ...Look at me, Ms Hanna!” And the herds of people walking passed us would never know this girl in a dress, now pushing two little girls in a stroller, is the same girl I carried with my own arms, limp and unconscious, from a back bunker of a semi truck, overdosed on drugs after being tossed around by truckers.
We talked for a bit, she was so excited to tell me how she was, what she was doing. And I was so excited to hear it.
Small, secret moments like this one is worth it all to me. To be part of someone’s life, to see and experience with them their worst and their best, and to share in their joy. It’s a privilege, I know it is. Not everyone gets to experience real, wrecking love like this.
The thing that stirs my emotions and affections most is the part where she knows I have the ability to strip her of her dignity. I have seen and know some of her absolute, most wretched parts (I’ve known and have dealt with her for years). And yet, she runs to me excited—no shame, no fear, no embarrassment—- knowing with confidence I’ll give her dignity.
That can only be Jesus in my life. Cause thats who He is. He does that for us all. He does it for me.
I’ll end this by saying I want to be more like this friend, who I will leave unnamed. One who runs to the Father in all my wretchedness daily, to the very end on that Day. Knowing with confidence Jesus took it away and clothes me with dignity instead.
And then with all the joy and praise—shame removed— “Look at me!.. Look at what You did!”