We were only minutes away from landing when I got the word of the news. I was told that when the wheels of the plane hit U.S. soil, we were going to sing Doxology, a P-squad favorite we had started singing in Mozambique and continued throughout the year. Half-heartedly I agreed, wondering who was going to lead us this grand scheme, but more focused on the fact that in just a few minutes, I would be home at last. After 11 months and 11 countries of living out of a backpack and serving the Lord I was going home. I had done it, and in the moment I was both joyful and full of sorrow for the days ahead.
As the wheels touched down Swanny began to sing and with less than half of P-Squad participating we sang in a broken chorus,
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow
Praise Him all creatures here below
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Amen.”
After getting through customs and saying our final goodbyes to our team and squad myself, Swanny, Christina, Mary, and Savannah gathered around to figure out how we were going to get to Moody Bible Institute. We had arranged to stay in the dorms with some students that night and upon asking directions we were informed that we had to take the “L” train to Chicago then get a connection to Chicago Street. Entering the train station I was immediately struck with the fact that I was back in America. People were speaking English and we weren’t getting the usual stares we had gotten accustomed to over the year every time we opened our mouths.
As we boarded the train I looked around and examined who was in the car. There was an older African American woman who appeared to be passed out in the middle of the car and a young African American man toward the front. We boarded toward the back and before the train took off we began discussing what stop we were supposed to get off at; attempting to navigate a new train system in a new town we had never been to. Swanny was mid sentence when a voice erupted from ahead of us, “Shut the **** up! What you doing **** trying to sleep and ***** kids.” This went on for a few sentences, and as the woman in the car erupted with anger and cursing we looked at each other, shocked and bewildered at the explosion we were witnessing.
After she finished her rant it was dead silence for about 5 minutes, and I'll admit that at first I was offended and angered by her reaction toward us. She didn't know where we had come from and all we had just been through. We had just traveled for 11 months and this is the welcome we get from our people? The train took off and as I sat there, contemplating the moment, I began to examine the woman in front of me. She was older, probably in her early 60’s, and possibly homeless. She had one large black rolling suitcase and a large purse and was bundled up in tattered and dirty clothing. She looked as if she hadn’t showered in days, possibly weeks and as I continued to examine her the thought crossed my mind as to whether or not she was sleeping on the train. After all, it was nearing midnight and she appeared to be huddling up to the window beside her. I began to feel sorry for her and began wondering who, what, when, where, and why this woman was so angry. I prayed, and as I did I got the urge. That familiar urge I get when the Holy Spirit is putting something wild on my heart that I just have to chase. I stood up, grabbed by bag, and took a few steps toward her, half concerned that she was going to pull a knife or gun on me.
“Hi, do you mind if I sit here?” I asked in the sweetest voice I could, motioning toward the seat next to her.
She looked at me with shock and pain in her face and replied meekly, “Okay.”
“What is your name?” I inquired.
“Helen,” she replied.
“Hi Helen. I’m Desirae.”
Immediately as I sat down Helen broke down, and as she began sobbing she apologized for being so rude and snapping at us. Then she began, without me even asking, to tell me her story. What ensued was a story of pain and brokenness and as I learned more and more about Helen I realized that she was merely a sad and lonely woman in need of one thing; love. In that moment I was choosing to give it to her, and for the next 25 to 30 minutes of the train ride Helen had my complete and undivided attention. I learned that she had been on the streets for several years and had recently lost her boyfriend to cancer. Her family was divided and split around Illinois and she was not in any contact with any of her brothers or sisters. Both of her parents were dead and she didn’t have any children to take care of her. Everything she owned was in that black suitcase and as I inquired what was in it she offered me a sandwich that she had just gotten from the person sitting in front of us.
As I continued to talk with Helen about her life and eat her sandwich I got a tap on the shoulder. I turned around to face a young man in his early to mid 30’s who said,
“I’m sorry. I have to tell you something. I have been sitting here listening to you for about the last ten minutes and at first I thought you were just a drunk girl being stupid. But then I heard you say you were headed to Moody Bible Institute and I just have to tell you that I am touched.”
He got choked up and began to cry, and with tears in his eyes said, “I haven’t seen anything like this in a really long time. I'm sorry, I’m just really touched!” He apologized for his tears and as I tried to find something to say all I could come up with was to nod my head and say, “Yeah. Jesus is real.” I was in just as much shock as they both were.
Long story short; JeSUs is real. He is lOvE, and love does cRaZY things.
Blessings my friends,
Dez
