When you are ready
Every few days she makes her way into ReCreate Café. She is much too thin, too loud, too chained to her addictions. She is always ready to fight and most often the instigator; she is quick to wield her words as weapons, tiny swords defending any glimmer of dignity she has left.
Sometimes a simple hello can set her off. She is always ready to fight. Most everyone complains when she shows up, she seems to be able to push every last button of any and all who are willing to help her.
Some days I grimace inside as I hear myself repeat the words: “The rules are here to protect you, our other neighbors needing help, and my staff. When you are ready to follow them you can come back.” It is a hard thing to turn someone away when you know you are their only meal or shower or moment of safety. Once again, I make my staff aware, she must come see me before any more services are provided, and a few days later, like clockwork, I get a text, “She’s here!”
I walked into the lobby. She was already ready to mount her defense, to meet me toe-to-toe to proclaim her innocence in all the reports and commotion. Our eyes met. I motioned with my index finger to follow me. I headed to my office. She complied and soon stood in the doorway fully expecting to see me behind the desk with gavel in hand.
Instead, I sat at the table and motioned for her to come sit with me. I sipped my coffee and quietly prayed for wisdom.
She scarfed down breakfast.
“Holy Spirit lead me,” I prayed silently.
“You know why we are meeting, right?” I asked.
“Everybody keeps telling you I’m disrespecting them. I’m not. They are. They disrespect me.”
“That’s part of it. I do get complaints.” I took another sip. “I’m sorry you feel disrespected. We don’t want you to feel that way.
No one likes to feel disrespected. When you leave your empty hygiene bottles across the shower drain and clothing on the floor, do you think Ms. GV feels respected?”
She confessed her attitude needs to change, would change.
More conversation, soft, tender, spirit-led.
I shared some of my story. How I fell in love with Jesus and how He changes everything.
She fidgeted, blurting out: “I haven’t had a fix yet today. My uncle is a preacher. They didn’t even let me hold my babies before they took them. You know I can smell God, right? Now I smell God; that’s how I know He’s near. He smells kind of like, well, I really can’t describe it. If safe is a smell, God smells like that. At least my kids are with
family.” She reached for another tissue.
“When you are ready…” I whispered, pleading with my voice to accept the help I offered.
“I know. I’m not ready.” Anxiously, she laughed, “Why am I crying like this?”
“Because when Jesus is near, His loving kindness reminds us how much we need Him. Jesus loves you so very much. There is nothing too big, too broken, too anything that could keep you from His love. He loves you. He loves you more than you can even imagine. I would love to introduce you to Him.”
“I know. I knew. I’m not ready. But yes, you can pray with me.”
We bowed our heads, and I took her hands in mine and prayed. This wasn’t a quick “God bless you” prayer. I prayed for her like I pray in my prayer closet for the prodigals in my family.
There isn’t anymore time to waste. We must come boldly—entering His gates with thanksgiving, His courts with praise, and His throne room with our petitions.
We prayed His loving kindness would draw her to repentance. We prayed that she would sense His presence. We prayed God would protect her and help her see there is nothing too broken that He can’t fix, nothing too far gone that He can’t restore. Nothing and no one that His love can’t reach. We prayed for ears to hear because He is calling her name. We prayed for eyes to see because He is reaching out for her. We prayed for her nose to smell God, her arms to feel God, her heart to soften towards God. I prayed that God would surround her with people who are godly influences, people who would love her like Jesus does. I prayed that every fix would be revolting and make her miserably sick. I prayed that she would see that she doesn’t have to get ready to invite Him into her life. Just ask, believe, and confess. He will work out all the rest.
Tears flowed, her hands trembled. She pulled away. I opened my eyes. “When you are ready…” my voice trailed off as once again, the offer to walk alongside her met with opposition, sadness even.
Addiction led her down this path, one poor decision leading to the next until sin had destroyed and stolen all she knew. Will you pray with me for my friend? She doesn’t have a bed or a roof. She aches for the children she bore but didn’t choose. She needs the Savior. May she smell the sweet fragrance of a God who loves her and wants her to be fully restored, reconciled to Christ, and whole.
I cannot count the times since that day in May that I have simply smiled at her and said, “When you’re ready.”
On November 20, 2024:
“You are going to want to come out here, she’s asking for you!” I quickly got up from my seat and headed for the lobby. A toothless, ear-to-ear grin met me as she pranced around like she really needed to go to the bathroom. The minute our eyes met she bellowed, “I’m ready!” Followed by, “Well almost, I need a change of clothes! I’m dancing like this because I don’t know what else to do and my body says I need my fix. I’m NOT going to do drugs anymore! I’m not! I’m going to rehab at 3:00. I CAN do this! Can I do this? Do you think I can do this?” She uttered all this in quick succession. I hugged her tight. She sobbed in my arms. “I want to introduce you to my boys one day.” We helped her fill a small suitcase with essentials and promised to pray for her. Will you join us? Today she is sober. Today she is determined.
Will you pray for my friend? These first few days are excruciating. Each step towards sobriety, towards hope and healing, is crucial. Pray for her as she begins this journey.