She sits with her warm tea near the window, watching the world go by. Caring for the concerns and worries of this world are not her forte. Silently, she smiles on, knowing that she still has time to make an impact. To make a difference.
The ones that she cares for most are the ones she focuses on, gathering her thoughts, and wondering how she can help them. Will they even accept her love?
She rises from window’s pain, and makes her way to the kitchen. Considering her stew she’s been working on, she lowers the flame and recalls days when cooking mass amounts of chicken soup for others brought her the most joy.
In that moment, she changes into her good sweater, puts on her shoes, and descends the stairs to the street level to meet the kids.
Stickball down 1st Street, and Freeze Tag down the next, she carefully scopes out the simple. Sitting down next to a child at the base of the stairs, she wonders what’s going through his mind as he doodles on a piece of paper. She watches; the pen’s movement, the colors, shading. The seemingly endless movement of the pencil and paper captivate her thoughts, pushing her to speak when she hasn’t quite found the right words to say.
She asked about his day. How hungry he was and what he had for lunch. She offers him stew, which he politely declined. She watches his doodling. Although she’s not understanding the gist of the drawings, she realizes they are beginning to take shape, and so she gives him space to draw. When she notices that his work is complete, she tells him that it might have been better if he had put color on his papers, because they’d stand out more. Thinking it to be wisdom, she clasped her mug and prepared to ascend to her apartment to finish her stew.
To her surprise, the boy calls out after her, and says the drawing is for her. He says it makes her think of him, in his broken English. The shades of the pencil detail her life; how she won’t waiver in some areas, and others she fades away from, like when she thinks she’s right.
And the warm tea and chicken soup that she left on the stove.
In Christ you are accepted, friends….