Lorena

She constantly stayed on my mind. I would often wonder what awful hand life dealt this middle-aged woman who had no home – or at least she lived as though she had no one at all to care for her. The nights I was scheduled to close the grocery store where I worked, there she sat – outside on a milk crate in front of the store. The parking lot and store lights dim at closing time. But where she sat nightly, there was a stream of low light shining on her favorite place to sit – her nightly routine. Like clockwork, she sat there as we drove away to our homes of comfort. In the morning she would be gone again.

The night I approached her I just could not take it anymore – I had to know about her. I went along with my co-workers at first to just “leave her alone.” But this night I had such an urging to try to help her in some way that I could not resist – I felt compelled as if some forces were pushing me in her direction – least of all, I had to know her name.

Phyllis my co-worker followed me over to the woman sitting in the dark. The dim light from inside the store window shown on her face – she was a Black woman. Her face bored many years of pain and sorrow that greyed her hair and wrinkled her rugged skin. Her clothes were dirty and misfitted. The shoes she wore were obviously hand me downs and run over at the heel. There was a pattern on her short-sleeved blouse I could not make out because of the dirt. It seemed a shade of blue with flowers, but one could not say for sure. Her tan skirt reached to her ankles – it was flowing and dirty as well.

Phyllis and I slowly approached her and only I introduced myself. Phyllis stood silent, watching cautiously. We did not want to cause her any alarm, so we stood a little distance from where she sat.

“Hello, my name is Terry.”

Her voice sounded like a weary person who had just enough energy to whisper “Hello” in return.

“We just wanted to know if you are alright.” I moved a little closer. “Do you need any help? Is there somewhere I can give you a ride to?”

“No.” She sadly replied. “I have no where I need to be. You all just go your way I will be fine.”

I really did not want to leave her there again. But we respected her wishes and walked to our cars hoping the homeless woman would be safe for another night in the dark. But I could not let it go. When I reached home, I called the Township Police Department to let them know about the woman. As I spoke with the Sergeant in charge, he laughed. I did not think a welfare call about a homeless woman sitting in the dark outside of a grocery store was funny at all. But he knew the woman and some of her story.

“Oh yeah, we know of her, Lorena,” he chuckled.

“She’s harmless. We tried to help her, but she refused our help in many ways offered. Since she is an adult, we cannot force her to do anything as long as she is not breaking the law.”

After the phone call, I could not sleep. I still felt that urge to do something to help her, “Lorena” – the homeless woman. Now at least I know her name. The next night she sat outside the store, I offered to take her home with me. Phyllis was with me when I asked Lorena if she wanted to come to my home.

“Are you nuts!”

“No Phyllis, I am not.” We slowly walked towards Lorena.

“You sure you know what you are doing?”

Phyllis was quite worried about my welfare and that of my family. I had a husband and two teenagers at home. Would they be safe? For some reason I felt they would be. I had no choice but to see this through. That urging, compulsion – that feeling of being called to join my life with Lorena was too strong to resist. The Scripture about “entertaining angels” came to mind when I thought about her. Because the Scripture begins with “Do not forget…” – I always took that as a command to …” not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels.” Being a Christian and working around so many that were not – including Phyllis – I needed to show my faith. It was important to me to not only obey the urging, but to show Phyllis what Christianity was all about – caring for one another – especially those less fortunate.

Everyone was asleep when we arrived home. I gave Lorena night clothes and showed her where she could shower and change clothes. Just in case, I locked the doors to my kids’ bedrooms. I woke my husband and let him know the decision I made. He looked at me rather strange and turned his back to finish whatever dream I had disturbed. He did not mind my act of benevolence, just a little upset for waking him up.

While Lorena showered, I made up the couch for her to sleep. At least this night she would be comfortable. The next day we had breakfast together. I offered her some of my clothing and shoes she could comfortably wear but she refused them. She carried a tattered paper shopping bag around, and only wanted what could fit in that bag and no more. In the coming days I took her to lunch, gave her money, and looked out for her the best I could. But that kindness extended to the homeless woman ended in tears, mine.

Twice Lorena crushed my spirit, and in front of witnesses. While standing in line at another grocery store with my Pastor’s wife, Lorena approached us and proceeded to curse – spewing the foulest language at me. The Pastors’ wife asked, “What was that all about?”

I was embarrassed and shocked that it happened a second time. The first time at our family’s Mom and Pop store. We were closing the store for the night, and I was moping the floor. The front door was open so the cool summer breeze would dry the floor quicker. Lorena stood in the doorway and said the most God-awful things to me. My husband and I just looked at each other – he never said anything about that night except, “I’m sorry things turned out that way.”

I explained to my Pastor’s wife that I had turned Lorena away that night because I was busy. She knew where our store was because I let her into our lives – just a little. How she found us at that store the night I was with my Pastor’s wife is a mystery. Sadly, that was the end of my kindness toward Lorena. In fact, she was never seen outside of the grocery store where I worked ever again. Whenever I think of her, I wonder could those awful incidents be a manifestation of her mental illness or was she a spiritual test for me – or both.

Even though I felt emotionally wounded, I felt good about trying to help Lorena. Most of all, if she were an “angel in disguise”, then I know I did the right thing to please God. I guess it just shows that God can use anyone for His Divine purposes.

“Bless you Lorena, wherever you may be.”