Every Christmas, for the past several years we have spent the first part of the morning at a community breakfast for people who don’t have anywhere else to go. Our daughters, now in their twenties, look forward to it as much as any other part of Christmas day. The large room is filled with smiles, great conversation and a grand dose of Christmas spirit. Those present have become an annual group of regulars; people from all walks of life, all with an interesting story to tell. The guests not only enjoy the hearty breakfast but also look forward to receiving a generous gift bag. The gifts range from hats, gloves, and scarves to candy and fruit.  The past few years the host church has given away hams and turkeys, which for the folks in attendance, is a special treat.

Being an extreme extrovert my favorite part of the morning is conversing with the guests so that I hear their story and know them more personally. Yesterday when we arrived I was immediately drawn to strike up a conversation with a lady dressed in a bright red sweater who was also wearing a pair of large sunglasses because she was visually impaired. She was there with her husband and grandson. Her name was Fran* and she was a great conversationalist. Not only did Fran share her story, but she was genuinely interested in hearing mine. I don’t know her age but I am guessing Fran and her husband are in their early 60s. I found out Fran has family in upstate New York and had lived near my sister-in-law. Their story included 17 years of employment at a factory in Ashland that ended when her husband had an injury on the job. Before he could return to work the company went out of business.  She and her husband became homeless after the job loss. She shared they had been homeless two times during their life together and had many other struggles including a very long bout with severe depression, failing eyesight, and other health issues. They now live on a very limited income but are comfortable in a small apartment.

I came away from my visit with Fran very enriched. I was enamored by four things about her: her joy, her story, her spiritual perspective, and her prophetic voice. Fran was joyful. She smiled often, laughed easily, and gave out encouragement like a generous millionaire. She was so happy I was familiar with the part of New York she had lived that she chatted with her husband about the connection we were making. Her joy was woven into her story. Here is a person who had been homeless, suffered from debilitating depression for years, had lost most of her eyesight, and yet in the same breath declared enthusiastically “but God is so good.” Her husband joined in at this point and recounted how at every turn, when they were experiencing the lowest points of their lives, God provided for them. They discussed how a friend had given them a place to live, a church helped them with an apartment, Fran found a job right after her husband lost his, and how God had healed her from depression. At this she got very quiet and seemed to mouth a prayer of thanks. She didn’t go into detail but she indicated that the depression had been long and very dark. She then looked up and told me that in that dark depression God had revealed himself through a song. Right there, on the spot, quietly so only I and her husband could hear her, she sang it. Fran had experienced a very personal encounter with the Maker of All Things. Her confidence and her joy were not fake. They were supernatural.

As it was getting to be time for Fran and her husband to go I stepped away from their table. They both shook my hand and told me how they enjoyed talking with me. I told them I had been blessed by our conversation. But I had one more blessing to go. As we three were standing there ready to part ways Fran unexpectedly grabbed me by the shoulders. She bowed her head and began to pray. She prayed a prayer of blessing over me. She spoke her prayer with a voice of authority. It came out of a heart experienced in spiritual matters. Her prayer was personal and powerful. I felt the blessing she transferred to me. Thank you Fran for freely giving what you have received.

*Name was changed to preserve anonymity