I called the next name on the list and the one squirming in her seat caught my eye.  I called the name again and she looked up at me.  I smiled at her and asked if that was her name.  She stood up nervously and walked towards me with fear in her eyes.  I’ve never considered myself to be intimidating and all I had done was smile at her.  We walked into my office and I asked her what I could do to help her.  The tears started rolling.  This time, they did not belong to me. 

She talked about wanting a new start and needing to redefine her life.  “I’m in the middle of ending my marriage of thirty years.  I’m done wondering if I’ll still be alive in the morning or if he’ll really pull the trigger next time.”  I don’t know what kind of look I had, but she continued.  “I was in an abusive relationship with a horrible drunk and I’m just trying to figure out how to stand on my own two feet again.  I am done living in a house where my children are scared of their own father.  I know God has brought us through this, but I don’t know how to find myself and I’m here for your help.”  How on earth was I going to offer anything to this woman?   I help find majors, do I really help find people??  I opted to softly smile at her and remind her that she is one tough woman.  Strong for walking away and strong for showing her children a better life.  I reminded her that she was right, God did bring her out of this and that it was really cool she was choosing to see that.  And then I told her that we could help her find her way and hoped that I had not just written a check that we can’t cash.  She walked out of my office, trying to smile.  Seeming almost, maybe just a glimpse, empowered.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I picked up the phone and called Will to say thank you for the fact that I will never have that story.  I then spent my lunch break writing a note to my dad to thank him for teaching me what good husbands and dads look like, for setting a standard in my life for the man that I will marry.  To thank him for leading our home towards Jesus that best way he knew how.  My dad has always been an incredible example of Christ in my life; it always looked easy for him to me.  In a house-full of crazy girls though, it probably wasn’t.

I have never been laying in my own bed, wondering if I was going to make it through the night.  I have never walked into our home to find my dad beating on my mom.  Neither one of them drinks so I’ve never had to wonder if I would come home to drunk parents who could not control themselves.  Fear does not go to bed with me at night; for me, home is the place where everything feels safe.  I’ve always believed that home is supposed to be the place that catches you when you fall, not the place where you get pushed.  Don’t get me wrong, I am not naive enough to believe that evil does not exist and that no one goes home to stories like this lady’s every single day.  I just have a hard time wrapping my mind around it, because of my own story.

Tonight, as that lady’s face still (two days later) plays vividly in mind, I am reminded of an old Clay Walker song.  I do sometimes wonder why God chooses the mediums that He does to show Himself to us, but I am choosing to see Him tonight.  I am choosing to see the way that He is leading this woman into new life and she knows that.  I am choosing to see the Godly man that meets the standard my Daddy set and that I will never live in a home where my children are scared of their own Dad and I lay fearful for my life at night.  I am choosing to see that all of the “bad idea” stories I see day in and day out are burdening my heart for the brokenhearted and how I’m placed here right now for times just like that moment.