It was one of those times.  A beautiful young woman, admitted the night before, came to Bible study in hysterics. The story she told between deep sobs never quite hung together, but it was clear she had been hurt badly by a guy she had been with two days before.  And it was also clear, that evidence collected at a hospital visit did not sustain the story she was telling.  The group was attentive to her, but she became increasingly hostile and verbally attacked Ellen on the other side of our circle.  Anger had destroyed the safety we so carefully claim, and Ellen decided it was time to leave.  The hysterical girl beat her to the door and a heavy silence fell on the group.

 

I sent silent prayers for wisdom as I asked Ellen to come and sit on the floor in front of me.  Slowly the conversation started again.  How were we to care for someone who was so hurt yet was so angry and confused?  We talked of God’s call to love everyone, and yet here was someone who had just put so much anger into the room – and yet we all knew how badly she had been hurt. Good conversation. Good ideas.  We were once again in sanctuary; and while we were talking, Ellen put her head in my lap and I let my hand lightly rub her neck and back.  I felt tension leave her.

 

We finished with prayer, a group of angels, dressed in orange, fortified by the Spirit that now was a very real presence.  As they got ready to go, Ellen looked up at me and said, “You must be a mother.  I have never had a mother – you know – foster care and all that means.  But I always wondered what a mother’s hand would feel like and now I know. They feel like the hands of God.”

God be praised!

 

   
Pat Lucy, Commissioned Lay Pastor