The Meeting

Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

I knew your name. Your face. 

And parts of your story.
But I didn’t know you. 

I sat quietly on the side, 

reading the little bits you shared 

about the most difficult period of your life.
You revealed a piece of your heart.
And somehow my own heart changed in response.
Your words were so painful.
Yet somehow ... still beautiful.
They introduced me to a new kind of beauty - 

beauty found only in hope directed somewhere 

outside of this world.

Slowly, I stumbled along a new path, 

inexplicably drawn by a force I couldn’t see.
Such tentative steps at first, 

carrying me to an unknown destination. 

An unfamiliar land I didn’t know, 

but somehow felt like home.

The world around you crashed.
Your heart broke. 

Shattered.
My tears flowed for you.
Still ... I knew only your name.
A piece of your story.
But I didn’t know you.

One foot in front of the other, I kept walking. 

Traveling this new path.
Journeying towards this foreign place.
Everything changed. Even words: 

Love. Hope. Peace. Now all with new definitions.
A miracle inside my heart.
Healing, when I hadn’t realized it was broken.
Wholeness, when I hadn’t realized it was missing pieces.

Your words. 

The way you shared your story and your heart.

They changed me forever.

A year passes. Then another.
I’m so restlessness ... 

Does He want me to tell you?
Oh so many drafts of that letter. 

Praying for words because my own wouldn’t do.
Your witness moved a mountain in my heart.
You don’t know me.
And I don’t know you. 

Still, you saved my life:
Because of you, I know who God is.

My letter... finally complete and in the mail.
Would it make it into your hands?
Would you open it? Read it?
Would it help you to know God somehow brought good from this tragedy?
Would it help you to know the role you played in my life?
I can only pray that I heard Him correctly 

when I mailed that letter...

What if He meant it only for me, and not for you.

Years pass, and we’re in the same room.

I approach you slowly.
Pounding in my chest. Can you hear it?

Tears threatening to spill.
Barely able to breath...
I’m so nervous. Anxious. Scared.
A nagging question resurfaces: Had the letter upset you?

We made eye contact. 

But I was silent.
So many words when I'm typing or writing, 

yet none when I try to speak
Opening my mouth would yield only sobs.

You see my name on my shirt.
A brief pause as recognition flickers in your eyes.

You grab me.
Pull me close. Hold me.
Hugging me, as I hug you. 

Now the tears fall.
But who can tell if they’re yours or mine?

My letter had not upset you. 

You've kept it all these years.
Just as I've kept the “lessons” I learned from your words 

typed into a notepad on my phone.

My heart ... it’s so full.
Seeing you in person.
Talking to you.

Holding you.

I have now looked into the eyes
of the person who was so instrumental
in helping me find God ...
and thanked her, 

told her I loved her.

This encounter was, without a doubt, 

a gift from God.

And my heart will forever be filled with gratitude. 

Let me never forget that God is so good at being God. 

___________________________

(blessed by these words? feel free to share, so you can bless others.)