I am thankful to see the homeless wheelchair woman is alive. I had another post planned for today, but while I was driving my son to work this morning I saw her. I have been worried. I have been praying. And when I realized it was her, I was so relieved.
A week and a half ago, on the way to teach my Sunday school class, I passed by her wheelchair. Piled on it were her colorful blankets, her extra clothes, and a colorful Vera Bradley backpack. My heart sank, wondering what had happened to the woman those things belonged to. Did the police haul her in, not wanting to put her pest-ridden things in the trunk of a patrol car? Did someone less official grab her and take her? Was she dead in a ditch somewhere? I had been seeing her down south and recently north of the interstate in my town. Walking along, pushing her chair. Her haircut was professionally done at one time, you can still see the cut. She moves like a younger woman–but meth can make you look old, too. I don’t think she has been homeless long but what do I know. When people march along pushing wheelchairs filled with their belongings talking to themselves I usually don’t stop to chat.
On the way home from church there were two blankets left on the ground. Should I have taken her things to keep until she was found or released?
A few days later the colorful blanket disappeared. The plain one remained, reminding me to worry and pray every time I drove past the lot.
Then today, I see her. She is walking away from the hospital (was she there this past week?) and carrying a clear bag like a comforter comes in at the store, filled with extra clothes. She still tosses her somewhat manicured hair and talks to herself. I am thankful she is alive.