Sitting under one of the lights outside of J's pizza, a lady came up to a friend and I talking in somewhat random sentences. Random things, but there was something about her. She told me to touch her hand -- and I did. Why wouldnt I? Because I was scared she might be unclean? I dont think that was a fear that Jesus had.
I held her hand.
A woman, who has a 14 year old daughter that wears the same size clothes as her; a woman that declared she was a grandmother; a woman that obviously knew the area and its residents well; a woman who no doubt didnt have someone to hold hands with often.
And she was beautiful.
She asked if my friend was going to walk me home. When she felt there was a doubt on my friends part, she offered me money for a cab ride home. She didnt look like she had a whole lot of that. Money.
She told me that if I was ever out on the street, she would look after me and wouldnt make me work for her. She had my back.
And I knew love.
Simple love.
From a stranger.
Thank God for Tina Turner.
