I had just left my car to walk the short distance to the food store when she saw me. Our eyes met, she smiled and I smiled back. It was just what she needed I suppose to give her the courage to ask, "Do you have five dollars?" I was taken back a bit. "What do you need it for?" I asked. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation on her part. "I need cigarettes. I'm addicted to them." And after the slightest pause she added, "I'm just being honest." I looked at her wistfully, regretfully. I might have shaken my head just slightly as if to say, "Food, maybe yes. Cigarettes? No, don't think so." And I turned towards the shopping cart rack.
"Give her the five dollars." It wasn't audible, but I heard it nonetheless. "Give her the money and tell her about me." I turned back, opening my wallet as I walked towards her, thumbing through until I found a five. "I want you to know that Jesus Christ is the center of my life," I told her as I handed her the bill. And then I asked her name and if I might pray for her." She nodded. "That would be nice." I laid my hand on her arm, and calling her by name, had a conversation with God. I don't remember all I said, but looking back, I don't think that was the most important part of this story anyways.
The encounter lasted no more than five minutes. I will probably never know what impression, if any, those few moments made. That she didn't have five dollars for cigarettes suggests there were probably more serious issues in her life. But as I finished praying, she suddenly reached out and hugged me. "Thank you," she said. "It felt good to be touched again."
I don't like cigarettes. I don't smoke, never have. At first I didn't say anything, I didn't have to. My face and body language said it all. But then I heard that Voice, putting me in check, asking me to set my personal bias aside. And because I listened, I believe her greater need was met.
By the way, this encounter happened early this past spring, the pandemic's influence lessening, but still holding some sway over our daily lives. Signs strongly encouraging mask wearing and social distancing still hung on store windows and doors. The past year had meant loneliness and isolation for many. Perhaps this woman had experienced much of the same.
I still don't know her story and most likely never will. But for those few moments, I hope she sensed it wasn't just my touch upon her arm that day.
