Latosha.

As I walked out of the bank today I met Latosha. The first thing she said as she introduced herself to me was, "I'm HIV-positive and I'm hungry." Although I don't think that was the best one-liner for most people to be willing to stay engaged, apparently it was enough for me. Yet to be honest, I was looking for the path of least resistance in how I could help Latosha and still limit myself from getting too involved. The small hispanic woman in front of me that Latosha stopped first, pleaded to not understand English and quickly passed by. Which albeit probably true, I was secretly mad at her for pulling that card as I tried to unsuccessfully sneak around Latosha before she could stop me.

However, as Latosha poured out her story to me, my plans quickly went to the wayside. Before I knew it Latosha and I were going up and down the aisles of a grocery store buying the things that she needed for the week. And as we spent the morning together, we had time to talk and she told me her story. Her story was a a long history of prostitution, rape, mental disorder and everything else that you can possibly imagine. But what stood out to me the most as Latosha and I sat and shared our lives, is that despite the similarities, or the differences, a long time ago we were both two women created for this life out of God's glory. Life has a way of beating us up and she felt so much shame about her past and where she'd been. Yet for some reason all I could see was this beautiful woman that is the daughter of a King. Today. Still. Even now. And I wanted her to see that too. Because I'm pretty sure that Latosha has spent most of her lifetime experiencing people in this world taking that identity from her rather than pouring it in.

After we got done shopping I drove Latosha back to her apartment and helped her carry her bags in. I laughed about how much I went from not wanting to be involved to now shopping and driving her home. But the thing that stayed with me the most about this whole strange morning is what happened next. Latosha and I said a few prayers together along the way that morning, but when we walked in her home, she put her bags down and held out her hands for me to hold hers. And as we stood there in her home holding hands she began to pray, "Thank you Jesus for providing for me. And thank you that I didn't have to do bad things to get food this time. I hope you're proud of me."

I'm pretty sure that after that prayer I spent the rest of the morning just quietly staring.

I have no idea if I'll ever see Latosha again, but what I know is that Latosha needed to be seen as somebody other than what everybody else sees her as. She needed to be reminded that she is this beautiful daughter of a King and I needed to be reminded of exactly the same thing. This world is broken and these roads are messy and life has a way of breaking us down. And as much as I didn't want to get into this situation this morning, I think Latosha just needed someone to see her. And honestly, somewhere deep down, I probably needed Latosha to see me.