January 9, 2011
I
never expect much when I walk into a public restroom. Maybe all the stalls are
out of toilet paper or the only working toilet is clogged. Perhaps even the
bathroom is completely void of paper towels. My expectations never exceed much
of anything.
But
even then, things still catch me by surprise.
It
was a regular Sunday at church; I sang and worshipped, shed a few tears at the
lyrics and was dismissed to The Zone where the youth services were held. Upon
exiting the main auditorium, I realized I had to use the bathroom. I had never
used the church bathroom before and I also thought it weird because I hadn't
drank much of anything before we left. Even so, I still walked down the short
hallway and made a left through the door labeled Women. I went into a stall and did my business, but as I went to
stand and do my belt, someone else walked in. Normally, it wouldn't give me
pause, as it was a public restroom.
Until
I heard her speak.
“All
right God, you've got my attention. What do you want me to do? What…what do I
need to do?” she said, and I could hear the tears plainly in her voice.
Quietly,
I tried not to pull her out of her God moment and simply unlatched the door and
walked to the sinks. She looked over at me and gave a faint, apologetic smile
as she wiped her running eyes with tissues.
“Sorry,”
she told me after a sniffle. “I thought I was alone.”
A
strange, nervous heat tingled in my stomach as I saw the helpless expression
clearly on her face and went in for a hug. I had never met this girl a day in
my life, but in that moment, it did not matter. She didn't shy away but
actually leaned into the embrace.
“God
wants you to do something magnificent, I'm sure,” I tried at a smile. She
continued to wipe her eyes.
And
in that moment, it didn't matter that the service was about to begin or that
I'd be late for it. All that mattered was this girl, this torn, powerless girl
who happened to stumble into the bathroom after me.
The
heat in my limbs pressed me to reach out to her, and I knew immediately that it
was the Holy Spirit. I decided to ask what was wrong.
And
then it was like I had broken open a dam of thoughts; things just started
pouring out of her. Not just things, but very personal life things. Again, I
didn't know this girl and she didn't know me.
She
said many, many things that just made my heart go out to her. She told me that
she felt like she was at a point where she was unloved and alone and lost. Her
boyfriend's mom absolutely hates her and has spread nasty rumors about her. She's
been called every bad name in the book. All of her friends have pretty much
ditched her to the point that she was praying for someone to come along and be a good friend, the friend who would
actually listen to her.
She
allowed me that precious position for an hour as she sobbed through her hurts
and troubles.
Time
was nonexistent. I knew I probably wasn’t going to make it into the youth
service, and that was all right. I had found God by the bathroom sinks instead.
After
this girl felt she had let a heavy weight ascend from her shoulders, we hugged
again and she thanked me for asking if she was all right and listening even
though I could have chosen to quietly wash my hands and leave to get to The
Zone on time, and missed this opportunity completely. I told her that listening
is what I do, and I was glad she found my face friendly enough to spill her
thoughts to.
Her
smile was full of humble gratitude as she called me an angel, one sent
specially from God for her. There was no doubt in her mind that there was a
good reason I felt the need to use the restroom even though in the several
times I have been to the church, I have never ever walked through that one particular door.
We
walked out, said our farewells, and she was lost in the crowd pouring from the
sanctuary doors.
I
stood there, trembling. The excited, supernatural energy had not yet dissipated
from my body.
I
couldn’t help the grin on my face. I probably looked stupid, standing there in
the hallway smiling to myself. It didn’t bother me in the slightest; people
could think what they wanted.
In
the name of God, I had been seen as an angel to someone. I’m not perfect by any
definition of the word, and I constantly wish to be so much closer to God than
I am, but I knew in my heart that this is exactly how I was meant to be
portrayed to the girl crying in the bathroom. An angel, sent to answer a plea
for help – not to do anything spectacular or showy, but something so simple. To
just listen.
To
those of you that know me, you know that this is one of the main reasons I want
to go into the field of Psychology. God apparently nurtured this talent of
listening in me for more reasons than one.
Praise Him for using a broken, sinful human being
like me as His megaphone to reach out to a broken heart.
God…you are so, so
amazing.
