I did it. I stopped the car. Driving through the alley behind our shop after office hours, I stopped for the barefoot girl crouched against the wall, tears streaking her face.
I can count on one hand the times I've stopped the car to help someone, and I'm ashamed at the countless time's I've just kept driving. I don't know how this girl was any different. Maybe I stopped because I'd just come from Papa's funeral and wanted to be more like him, always helping people, always loving people and always serving God.
She told me that she was okay, but thanks for asking. She was just arguing with her boyfriend. Her face was bleeding and raw, but she convinced me that it was a chemical burn from a faulty skin care product.
And she thanked me for caring, for being different. "People just don't stop anymore. They don't care about other people. Thank you for caring."
That hit so deep. She treated me like I was a saint or a guardian angel or something, but I only stopped on an impulse. I couldn't look her in the eye and mumbled something to the effect of, "Of course I care!"
After visiting for about 5 minutes, she told me that she lived in the shop with her boyfriend, said she was there all the time and urged me to stop by anytime.
I don't deserve her invitation, her regard. I don't deserve her friendship.
Lord, thank you for the girl in 651B. Thank you for using her to show me what I snob I am. Help me to listen to Your promptings and be willing to step out of my comfort zone, to stop the car and get involved. And help me to do it for You or for the people You created, but never to for myself.