Touch deep

We were strangers to each other.
She needed some toiletries from the back, if we had any more free ones.

We chatted small talk when I returned with them. It was a cold night. We both hated that.

I laughed and told her, “We need more fat on our bones to stay warmer.”

That started it. The opening. It was just a sliver at first.

She said, “I used to be a size 14 until three months ago.”

I put my foot in the door to keep it open.
“Oh? How did you lose so much weight?”

“Stress,” she said.
The opening widened.

Oh.

The draft at the edge of the now wide-open space gave me a brave spurt. Could I match hers?

I asked, “What can I pray for you about? I would love to do that right now.”

And that really did it.

When you touch the soul, you touch deep.
Deep touches are strong.

Unguarded, she told me more. She had four children. “And Erin,” she said. “Could you please pray especially for Erin?”

“Yes, of course. Erin.”

I asked her name. “Lynn.” She asked mine so she wouldn’t forget me. She said, “Lisa, I won’t forget this.” I told her, “And Lynn, I will remember you.”

So I pulled in close and prayed down blessings on Lynn. And especially for Erin. Lord, were you listening? Of course. You always are.

What would he do next? I’ll probably never know.

“Lynn, I’ll be praying for you tomorrow, too,” I said. “And for Erin.”

Lynn wiped away tears and we hugged.
Strangers no more.

Because that’s what God does.
He grabs a piece of your soul and connects it to another’s.

And when you touch soul to soul, you’re no longer strangers.

Touch a soul and you touch deep.
Touch deep.

* * *

As Lynn walked away, I wrote myself a note, “Lynn. Erin.”
For me, in the writing is the remembering.
So I write this to you.
Because I want to remember.