I have found that as more years of my riding the train goes by, the softer my heart has become to the plight of so many people. I would like to share another encounter of God on the Lightrail.
This one began on a 40 degree morning on the platform at Target Field where I saw a mid-aged man with only one shoe on, and no socks, attempting to shuffle along on the cement. He had grass and leaves stuck to his clothing and it was obvious that he had slept on the ground and by his weathered face, this was not his first night outdoors. I boarded the first car (as is my habit) and wouldn't you know, there was the man with one shoe sitting four seats in front of me. I am on the train for 20 minutes and God started pestering me within the first couple of minutes, 'Therese, the man only has one shoe and it's mighty chilly on the sidewalk.' I really did try to ignore it, but eventually gave in and started sizing up his feet. I wear a size 11 shoe and my current shoes were nicely stretched out and quite pliable. If I took my insert out they just may fit.
So yes, I got up and went and sat next to the man saying 'you only have one shoe on.' Like a child he responded, 'I lost my other one last night.' At that moment it was only him and I and Christ. The rest of the passengers faded away. I told him that maybe my shoe would fit him and proceeded to remove the insert and place the shoe on his foot. It fit! No surprise there since God was orchestrating the whole affair. He told me it felt good and then I asked him if he would like a matching pair. His eyes lit up and said 'oh that would be nice.' So off came the other shoe along with the insert.
You may be asking how I was going to get to work in socks - well that also became my thought. I have a quirky thing about wearing wild socks (don't ask) and my current pair was neon pink. I keep a pair of shoes in my office so knew that if I moved fast enough I could get to the building before my feet got too cold; although i was starting to feel a bit sheepish once the reality of what I had just done began to sink in.
When I stepped off the train, a gentleman said to me 'that was a really nice thing you just did.' It was then that I remembered that there were indeed other passengers on board. I'm hoping that some of them also saw Christ in this man's face and saw the precious child of God that he is, and not 'just another drunk.' I sure did.