The chipped crimson nail polish hinted of the life once lived with dignity and pride. Now, the graceful fingers were cloaked in grime from the streets.
Mary was her name.
Still is.
But the Mary of long ago had succumbed to the Mary who no longer recognized her disheveled reflection in the window of the corner market. She walked hunched over, not daring to make eye contact with the world around her. The world had put her in this dark place – this place of hopelessness, this place of loneliness, emptiness, and humiliation.
And now she wished only to survive the day.
A young woman encumbered with Christmas packages hurried across the street to beat the coming traffic. In her rush, she bumped into Mary, sending the forgotten woman careening against a brick wall. Christmas packages scattered across the sidewalk.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. Please let me help you get up.”
Unaccustomed to kindness, Mary lowered her head and stared at her crumpled legs.
“Please,” the woman persisted. “Let me help you.”
Mary dared to look into the young woman’s dark brown eyes. Quite by surprise, Mary caught a glimpse of her former self – young, confident, full of ambition and kindness … When had everything changed? How did I get to this place?
As the young woman leaned over to assist Mary, her gold filigree cross dangled around her neck and reflected the sunlight, casting a tiny glow onto Mary’s face. Mary was taken aback. The cross had once meant so much to her and now – NOW – she had wandered far from God’s grace. This forgotten woman believed she was no longer worthy of God’s love.
A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. Emotion had become foreign to Mary. Could she dare to feel her pain again? Could she accept kindness from this stranger and allow God to love her?
Questions.
Emotions.
Divine intervention swirled around her all at once. This tidal wave of love began breaking down the cold, hard walls of Mary’s heart.
The young woman pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed gently at the tears on Mary’s cheek. She spoke softly, soothing the wounded spirit before her. Mary intuitively knew that it was the Lord who was comforting her, accepting her, pouring His restoration into her broken life.
Like the young woman, we are to be His hands, His feet, and His voice. We must allow God’s love to flow freely through our lives into the lives of others.
A simple hug.
A kind word.
Sharing the amazing grace of our Savior born on Christmas day.
A Tweetable to Encourage Others
Could she dare to feel her pain again? A CHRISTMAS STORY on @inspireafire. (click to tweet)
