Annie Heathorn, of the September 2012 J Squad, is finishing up her Race in Ireland this month. This is the story of how God showed up while working in a clothing warehouse for the needy. How can you recognize God's love in the ordinary?
*Photos via Pinterest.com and Annie Heathorn
“I hadn’t left the house in ten years,” she told us.
“I’d stay in my room all day, and my daughter would leave food at the bottom of the stairs so that I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. I’d given up on life. That was February of last year.”
Wendy took a sip of her tea and looked intently into my eyes.
“That was the place I was in when God found me.”
It was our morning tea break while working in the Compassion warehouse, and as we sat resting I asked Wendy if she’d share her story with us.
When I met Wendy I was immediately intrigued by the spark in her eyes and the vibrancy in her step. There was a fire about her and a youthfulness that outshone her middle aged peers.
Many days this month I have worked side by side this remarkable Irish woman sorting through hundreds of boxes of donated clothes. It is amazing how a powerful vision and an enthusiastic spirit can transform tedious work into a therapeutic delight.
The vision behind the Compassion warehouse is to have a place where people who are struggling for money can come, express their clothing needs and specific sizes, and go home with a custom designed new wardrobe.
“You should see their faces when they try on their new outfits,” she often tells me. “It makes all this work worth it.”
When I asked Wendy to share her story, I hadn’t expected her to have come so recently from the exact opposite side of the spectrum.
“Eighteen months ago I was in the same place that they are in.”
It made sense then why she felt so deeply for the people coming in for help.
“My daughter and I had been financially struggling for years, and even though I had heard that the Vineyard Church gave out bags of food on Sundays, I refused to go anywhere near a church. I didn’t want to have anything to do with one.”
It wasn’t until her neighbor came and asked Wendy to accompany her to the food bank that she finally agreed to go. She knew that if she didn’t go then her neighbor wouldn’t either, and her friend's babes would go hungry that night.
“So I went,” Wendy continued. “As soon as I walked in the door, something crazy started happening to me. An overwhelming sensation came over me. It was something I had never felt before, something completely new. It was the feeling of being completely loved, accepted and seen all at the same time. I had never felt such peace as I did in that moment.”
“And you know what happened then?” She asked me. “I started bawling like a baby.”
“You see, Annie, I don’t cry. I hadn’t cried in years, but when I entered those doors suddenly all the loneliness, pain, and depression started coming out. And I sat there for hours with these people just crying and crying. They just held me there and let me cry. It was exactly what I needed.”
After that, Wendy couldn’t keep away. Any excuse she had, she would come to the Vineyard just to sit with the people and be in that atmosphere. A few weeks later they invited her to CAP, Christians Against Poverty, for those dealing with heavy debt. For years Wendy's debt had been piling up.
"Every bill and letter that came I just let sit there not even bothering to open it. I wanted to die anyway, was waiting around for the day that I would, so I didn’t care."
But it was at that CAP meeting that Wendy let God into her life.
Something you must understand is that Wendy was severely sexually abused when she was ten. The pain, depression and fear that it caused is what kept her hiding from the world most of her life. Because of what happened she couldn’t look men in the eyes, not even her own father.
“But for some reason when I went to the CAP meeting I found myself not only talking to the man who led it, but sharing my story with him. I even asked him for a hug, shocking myself even further. I felt safe with him and I wanted what he had. When he shared how to receive new life, I like to say God hit me with a sledge hammer, and I said, okay."
“I tell you, everything changed after that,” she shook her head in disbelief, “Absolutely everything. It’s unbelievable what God did in my heart in just a year.
I could barely leave the house, hiding away from the world, now all I want is for the whole world to know this love that I feel. I never thought I’d have a relationship with my dad, but now we actually sit and talk on the phone. I wanted to die, but now I’m truly living. It’s a miracle, really.”
And God keeps putting new things on Wendy’s heart to do. Even when she sprained her foot, it couldn’t keep her down. She’s here at the warehouse almost every day, sorting through clothes and picking out outfits to give to people, or bagging food to give away. Her most recent project is creating an art room where women can make cards, letting their souls rest while being loved on.
“I just want people all over Coleraine who are hurting like I was to experience this extravagant love. Because it changes everything.”
As Wendy was sharing, my own heart was stirring. The passion and love with which she spoke were contagious. I felt myself glimpsing into the heart of the Father.
Wendy reminded me what a compassionate God we serve.
He’s the kind of Father who looks out on the brokenness in the world – all the poverty, hurt, wretchedness and abuse, and just weeps over his children.
But he doesn’t stop there. He reaches out and starts touching the wounds, healing those who need healing, feeding those who are hungry, embracing those who need to be embraced, and clothing those who need to be clothed.
He knows exactly what each individual needs. Much in the way Wendy carefully selects a new wardrobe to fit to each individual, God custom designs the perfect new wardrobe for each of us. He takes our old wardrobes stained with pain, loneliness, depression, and fear, and replaces them with new wardrobes of peace, joy, passion, restored hope, and new life.
All free of charge. His reward is simply watching us try on our new clothes and step into our new identities.
“You should see their faces,” he whispers in his delight, “It makes it all worth it to me.”
