Joan

So Joan was a woman of mature years. I think that means that she is older than me. She had her things in a bag on a wheely thing. I noticed her once then got wrapped into a conversation. When we were finished Joan was still standing. She did not look particularly happy or kind or English-speaking. But I just thought I would say hello. I did find her to be English speaking but she was also unhappy.

Joan and I chatted for quite some time. In the passage of 15-20 minutes (I am guessing), I learned a few reasons why Joan might be a little unhappy and angry and bitter.

Joan has three daughters. I learned that one of them had died. I learned that quickly as she answered my inquiry about growing up in NYC and her family. The rather permanent sorta scowl that marked her forehead would make anyone want to stay away. Other things that began to unfold of her life included how very hard life had become. How bad the area was from many years ago. She has two nephews. One she said was trying to be "good" and the other was "a demon." I was not sure what that meant other "bad."

As I mostly listened and offered a few sentences of sympathy and searched for hope, more stories kept coming. Her one daughter was an addict on drugs and alcohol. The other just alcohol. One of those girls threw her grandson out when he turned 18 as she chose her boyfriend over her son. Joan was obviously bitter and ashamed of this situation. So she told me that her grandson lives with her and is trying to get his GED and work. I tried to commend her. I asked her if that was tough to care for him. She said not really but in a way that was meant - it seemed - to convey to me that she is strong. What was so hard for me to hear was her strong condemnation of her daughter and she spoke of God being so good. Little by little she spoke more of having faith. Then I asked if there was a man in her life. She told me with disgust that men are no good in this area. Her husband was deceased and that was when her life ended. So grief still really guided her life. And then while on the topic of men and how awful they are she brought up her daughter who died. Some had been raped by some man she knew and he had AIDS and that is what killed her daughter. But her daughter was also a drug addict.

Wow. All this pain. All this loss. Tons of shame still. I was not sure what to say. I walked to the trash can and when I returned she was cynical. She said, "so I suppose we all have our stories and I bet you are really shocked and think mine is something." All I could find in my heart and mind to say was that I was saddened to hear that these things had been and still are part of her life. I asked if she had faith in the God of whom she spoke. And would she allow me to pray for her.

I prayed long. My heart broke for Joan. When I finished she said my prayer had made her day. She SMILED! Chuck had joined us for prayer and she teased with him a bit. Somehow she ended up telling us that he mother left her on their stoop when she was 5. She told her goodbye and go to her mom's friend's house. She never returned. Her father was a terrible addict and not in her life. Fast forward 50 years and when her mom came back and needed care, Joan gave it. She said she did not harbor resentment but forgave her mom. This all was not terribly evident. But it didn't matter to me.

Ya know. In the end of that encounter Joan gave me a big hug. Her life may or may not have been changed. But she smiled. She actually smiled. I reminded her that sings over her each of her children and her. He still loves them all. I don't know if she believed me or not. I hope she thinks about it.

How much I have to learn from Joan. That will come in some later blog when I figure out how to put it into words.

For Joan. She was one of the least of these. She was the orphan now turned widow. She is poor. She is hurt. She fits every description of who God wants us to care for.