Lou

Last week, I met Lou.

Last week, there was some commotion in the lobby at work.

This is NOT unusual.

In fact, it is unusual for it not to happen.

However, I needed to go to the bathroom.

In order to go to the restroom, we walk out of our locked-from-the-outside door which goes to our offices and around the corner in the lobby.

As soon as I walked out the door, the woman making the commotion was right in my face.

She was highly agitated.

She had a hospital bracelet still on her wrist, and was holding paperwork.

She was yelling at me about how she needed counseling.

I quieted her down kindly and asked her if she was asking me for help.

She was VERY agitated.

She said she did.

I told her I would get her help.

She tried to follow me back through the door.

I sat her down in the lobby and told her I was going to get her help.

I went to my office and called dispatch.

I gave them the information I had, then hung up.

I went back to the lobby and told her I was getting her help.

I asked her if she wanted me to sit with her and she said she did.

So, I sat down.

In between her yells, screams, cussing, agitation, shaking, trying to hurt herself, etc. I held her hand and asked her questions about her children.

Soon, the police and paramedics arrived.

They knew her.

They had helped her the day before by taking her to the hospital.

She was actively trying to get hit by a car.

She had been taken to the hospital the day before, and again this very morning.

Because she is homeless, they would just release her with a bus ticket and her discharge papers, clearly stating she was suicidal.

The paramedic was SO sweet with her.

She wouldn't let me leave her side, and I didn't mind sitting with her.

"Lou" is human, too.

She is a daughter of the same God we all are.

On this day, she was seen and heard.

By me.

She just wanted someone to listen and to hold her hand.

Lou has lots of mental health issues.

But, her worth is no less.

I have prayed for Lou each day since.

I have also thanked God that I was able to sit with her that day.

To tell her that I see her.

That I hear her.

That she was safe in those moments.

I prayed with gratitude for our first responders who exhaustively do this multiple times a day.

If I was living in my past, I would have been too engulfed in my process addiction.

Yes, I would have had compassion for Lou.

But, I would not have seen her through God's eyes.

Don't cheat on your future, or your present, with your past.

You just might miss Lou moments.