On a Saturday morning after a frustrating Friday…long, long, long and unproductive waste of day because of technical aggravation…malfunction, delay.

I pause now and remember her stopping by at the end of day.

She walked in, her smile and spunk as big as the room, off today from both her new jobs in fast food.

Saving up for both her girls their own place.

Happy to work, moving forward, sure of good things when she leaves our shelter.

She walks up towards my desk, I see again it’s not working and shaking my head say,  looking down and not under my breathe, I mutter…

“Shit!!!!”

She laughs and smiles and says.

“Go home, Miss Lisa. Get you some good rest and a good Word on Sunday morning.

I can’t have you stressed.”

Then she tells me she’ll be baptized on September 11th and I say I want to be there.

She smiles, says “Okay.” in a way that says come if you can,  I’m good either way.

Her story is my story.

My tiny part is giving shelter. Her part is resilient and infectious determination.

Her story is my story.

Redeemed.

Accepted, encouraged.

Hopeful, redeemed.