It is late November, early on a Sunday morning, and I have woken to find thick fog blanketing the area where I live.
We are in the midst of the second national lockdown in England. However, unlike the first lockdown earlier in the year, this time we are allowed to meet up with others, outside, one-on-one, for socially distanced walks. I am due to be meeting with a friend, halfway between where we both live, for this purpose. She was widowed, prematurely, a little less than a year ago, so I want to turn up on time. But I need to make a detour before I set off.
Driving onto my local petrol station forecourt, it feels eerily deserted, as I fill up the car’s almost-empty-tank with fuel.
Entering the kiosk to pay, I don a facemask and warmly greet the two women who are sitting at the tills, behind the clear glass screen, designed to protect them from any customers who might inadvertently be carrying Coronavirus. My voice is muffled by my mask, as I joke about which of them wants my custom.
Instinctively, I turn to the matronly lady on the left, and we get chatting as I pull out my purse to find my loyalty card and means of payment. Her name badge tells me she is called Janet*, a perfect name for her generation of women.
Within moments, the conversation turns to Christmas plans and her story comes tumbling out.
***
“My husband and my dad both died last year,” she tells me, “and my mum is in a care home, because she’s got dementia.” She shrugs her shoulders, as she gestures for me to pop my card into the reader. “It’s not going to be much fun this year, as my mum doesn’t even know who I am anymore, and she’s reverted to using her maiden name.”
I tell her that I agree with her about how hideous dementia can be for the person’s loved ones, and then I see tears welling up in her eyes, and I notice the all-too-familiar sense of courage and compassion rising up in me.
“Would you like me to pray for you?” I ask her, noticing her colleague, out of the corner of my eye, to the right, swivelling around in her chair to face us. “I’m a Christian, and I believe God wants to comfort you in your grieving.”
She fumbles with her sleeve, pulls out a scrumpled tissue, holds it up to her nose, and sniffles. “OK,” she says, reluctantly. “I’m not religious or anything, but that would be kind.”
I pray a simple prayer, out loud, looking at her as I do so, suddenly acutely aware of the clear plastic screen standing between us. My voice muffled by my facemask, I ask Jesus to bless her this Christmas, to comfort her in her grief, and to give her some special memories with her mum.
As I do so, she silently starts to cry, tears trickling underneath her metal-rimmed glasses, and down her cheeks. Everything within me wants to give her a huge hug, but Coronavirus, and British social etiquette, both hold me back. Not to mention the fact there’s a clear plastic screen in the way.
“Are you alright Jan?” her colleague asks from her swivel seat, a safe two metres away. Her voice registers concern and compassion.
“Yes, yes,” she says, “I’m OK. I just got some goosebumps, during that prayer, that’s all.” She turns to look at me, and I smile.
“Maybe that was God?” I suggest, pausing before continuing, “If you want to go to church this Christmas, either socially distanced in the building or online, then you would be really welcome.” I give her the name of my church, and she scribbles it down on a post-it note.
“Happy Christmas ladies,” I say, as I turn and head out of the kiosk.
Getting into my car, I drive through the thick fog to get to the destination, where I’m due to meet my friend for our socially distanced walk. All the way there, I am praying for Janet. More than anything, I pray that she will have a sense of God’s presence with her this Christmas. I feel, deep down, that she will.
***
How many other ‘Janets’ are there out there? How many grieving, hurting people, who need to know God sees them, cares for them, and can comfort them, if they will let Him? And how many of us are willing and able, especially if we are Christians, to offer a friendly face, a listening ear, and a prayer in faith that Jesus will hear?
May all of us be alert to the opportunities, right in front of us, this Advent season, as we countdown to Christmas …
*Not her real name.
Image by andreas160578 from Pixabay
Light through the Cracks 