mary solomons.

It had been a long day. The annoyances and uncomfortable moments of life had gotten the better of her most of the day. Moments of panic had set in, only to be resolved through the natural course of time rather than her efforts to put all the pieces in some place, any place. Too many loose ends were flying around, and they had whipped her and left her worn and frail. All she needed waited for her inside the safe walls of her new home.
With journal and iPod in hand, she contentedly sat down in the armchair nearest the open doors overlooking the valley below. Within the walls she was protected from the unpredictable world outside, or so she thought. She opened her journal to write out some of these haunting emotions--old memories that still hurt sometimes and made the dailyness of life all the more overwhelming. That's not exactly the relaxing activity she had in mind, but she knew it had to be done. In all actuality, thinking about such things seemed more daunting than the 2 awkward date refusals she'd handed out earlier, her potentially kidnapped roommate showing up late from work after taking the long way home on her bike, and returning home to the car alarm blaring into the quiet afternoon and the plastic clock in her borrowed car gone from the dashboard. None the less, the hurt was growing and she knew that confronting demons was the only way of casting them out.
She hadn't been writing 5 minutes when she simultaneously saw her roommate's head quickly turn and heard a deep voice calling out through her enjoyment of her favorite Postal Service song. As, I don't know, luck...or God...or nothing in particular, would have it, she had the only actual view of the visitors. Just outside the gate, clutching the iron rails, stood a small man and his even smaller wife.
Before she could expose herself as the sinful, judgemental jerk that she was, the gate-holders began yelling out words and requests with a confidence that comes from experience. She understood basic words like 'jacket' and 'cold' and 'hungry' and, somehow she got his specific request for 'baked beans'.
She looked at her roommates and they just sat staring at one another. I mean, there they were in their nice clean clothes, in their nice clean house, safe and content. After the various scares of the day, the last thing she wanted to do was hear these people. But she saw that the responsibility defaulted to her because she was the only visible person from their view.
She stood up and the others in the room followed. They found a brochure for a local homeless shelter, and stepped through the threshold of "safe" and into the afternoon breeze. Little did she know that she was about to gain the ghost of another child of God, a "jesus in disguise", a chance to really live out this gospel she waved around, another crack in the tile of her heart.

Mary Solomons stood next to her husband with her arms by her sides, looking into this white world with the same curiosity the resident had for that of her visitor. Mary's 5'3, 100 pound frame was loosely covered in raggedy black cotton pants, a red sweater with a teddy bear sewn on the front, a light, black windbreaker torn across the right shoulder, and a black beanie pulled down to her eyes. From underneath Mary's hat, wisps of grayish black hair blew in the wind and matched the thin mustache which had grown ever-so-slightly into the camouflage of her darkened and wrinkled skin.
She walked up and stood across the gate from Mary. "I smell", Mary said. And she did. Mary had not showered in a long time. As Mary spoke, she caught a glimpse into Mary's empty mouth and discovered one last tooth hiding inside. As she studied Mary Solomons, she tried also carrying on a semblance of a conversation with Mary's husband, the one with the voice. It was this voice that had introduced her to Mary when she was sitting with pen still in hand and music still in ear. "This is Mary", he had said across the once-distance that had separated their worlds moments earlier.
Now she stood, and Mary was very real. Mary's eyes pierced hers. It was as if they were nose to nose. They explained to the 2 visitors where the shelter was, that it was a place where they could receive food and clothes and showers and blankets, and that the girls would be there Monday to welcome them in. But their need, the visitors claimed, was more immediate, for "it is cold and these clothes are old. And we need some baked beans."
FREELY YOU HAVE RECEIVED, FREELY GIVE.
They handed the visitors a box of crackers and watched as they took it and began backing away thankfully. "Can I pray with you?" she asked. Mary Solomons eyes opened widely and she neared the gate and neared the girl for the first time. "Can I take your hand, Mary?" she asked. Hesitantly Mary lifted her weathered hand to the girl's and let it rest close to her heart.
AND WHERE TWO OR MORE ARE GATHERED IN MY NAME, I AM THERE.
She asked God to continue providing the clothing and food and love the visitors needed. And she asked Him to bring them to the shelter so that she might have the chance to know Mary Solomons and her husband more, and that they might find God there also. The prayer couldn't have lasted more than one minute. "Amen."
She looked up and Mary Solomon's once skeptical eyes were full of tears. One by one they began skating down Mary's hurting face. She immediately joined Mary and began wiping her tears away. Mary neared her even more and placed her head on the girl's chest and cried. She held Mary, and together they cried for the pain in their hearts, for the pain in their world.
CARRY EACH OTHER'S BURDENS, AND IN THIS WAY YOU WILL FULFILL THE LAW OF CHRIST.
She whispered to Mary that she was precious, and she was. That God never left her, and he doesn't. That he loved her and watched her. Mary looked up into the sky and stared around. Mary Solomons stood, looking for God.
FOR THE EYES OF THE LORD RANGE THROUGHOUT THE EARTH TO STRENGTHEN THOSE WHOSE HEARTS ARE FIXED ON HIM.
And then Mary grabbed the girl's hand and kissed it. As Mary walked away, tears still dripped down her face. Arm in arm with her husband, Mary waved goodbye, walking backwards away from the safety of the moment.

Mary Solomons didn't need a jacket or a blanket or baked beans. Mary Solomons needed to be loved without condition.
Ashley Lovell didn't need to be alone or to hide in her music or to pour her hurt into her journal. Ashley Lovell needed to be loved without condition.
AND NOW THESE 3 REMAIN: FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE. BUT THE GREATEST OF THESE IS LOVE.