Day Two

Keep on loving each other ... Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it. Hebrews 13:1-2


Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends. -- Shirley Maclaine


The color of truth is gray. -- Andre Gide


Snapshots. Candids. They capture a moment. They store our memories in color. They don't always come in the form of a photograph.
I was talking to a friend today about the different ways we can experience God. One of the ways that was mentioned is through people. Have you had those people that were just around for a snapshot? A moment? A season? God whispered through them. God grew you through them, but that was all it was meant to be ... a time to glue into the scrapbook of your life. The one that maps out who your are becoming, baby-step by baby-step.
When I was in the hospital the first time, I think I was 20. My OCD was off the charts because of a new medicine a doctor decide to try on me. The initial anxiety the pill created, heightened this disorder to extreme levels. I had a reaction to the pills -- suicidal thoughts. I found myself away from my family, in a lock-down unit, during a summer where I would have much rather been vacationing elsewhere. It's scary when those doors slam shut and you realize you're all alone. You're family can't be there. There are only strangers. Strangers you're not quite sure you can trust. Nurses and doctors that you're not quite sure are doing what is best for you. There were bars on the windows and lines for medication.
On my first night there, I was given a tour. On that tour, I was shown the patio -- breathable air, even if most of the time it was full of smoke and nicotine. Fresh enough. And out on this patio was a woman who I can never quite remember and a man called Gray. He stood up and greeted me, giving me a hug.
This was a man with an accent I believe all Southern girls dream of (Well, the ones like me that could quote every Scarlet O'Hara line in Gone With The Wind). The "Old South" -- a character in a book. A classic novel.
He reminded me of the Mad Hatter in cartoon form. At least, that is how I see him so many years away in this memory of mine. Shorter, with dark curly hair -- graying in spots. Fitting since that is how I felt, Alice having fallen down the rabbit hole. Drink this. Eat this. Shrink your spirit. Distort your views. Off with her head. Detached.
Later that night, I met Gray again. His beautifully cadenced Southern drawl, more shaken and fidgety. He'd knocked on my door. Afraid to see what/who was on the other side, I reluctantly opened it to find -
Someone new. He looked down at my shirt, Larry Boy. It was a VeggieTales T-Shirt. He said, I see that your shirt says Larry on it and there is a Larry that keeps calling my house and leaving messages for me on the answering machine. He says that I owe him money and I ask him to stop calling but he will never leave me alone. If you know this Larry can you please tell him to stop calling me? His voice was hurried and nervous. After he left, I shut the door a bit fearful.
Some of the other patients later told me that he had paranoid schizophrenia. This is why he was one way for a moment and another way in the next. During my time there I got to know him a bit better. He became sunshine for me in a place that held shadows. He was one of the ways God showed me that he had not left me alone.
Whenever I would pass Gray in the hallway or see him on the patio, he would smile at me. Something as simple as a smile. He would say to me, Amanda, out of all of us you're going to make it out of here. You're going to be okay. Or, You and I are going to write the next great classic novel -- either separately or together. You're going to make something of your life. You're going to be okay. He encouraged me.
Once, Gray and I and one other patient went on a walk during this recreational time we were given. He knew every plant, flower, and tree. Such a smart, kind man -- who occasionally acted a little strange. Yet, don't we all to some degree?
Eventually, it was time for Gray to go away. I believe he'd been in and out of an institution of some form for most of his life. We thought the people who were supposed to be loving and protecting him, they didn't want to do it anymore. His big fears became to much for them. He was supposed to be taken to see if he would be turned over to a state facility. I remember how afraid he was, how the men stayed up and drank coffee with him that night. How I had gone to bed, hoping things would turn out okay for a stranger that I hadn't known for very long, but who I had come to understand as a friend.
He'd brought me hope, the smiles he gave me reminded me this was not what I was meant for, and he was one of the breaths God took deeply and loudly when I was in that building to let me know He was with me. I was never alone. We never knew what happened to Gray. The nurse assured me he would be alright. And I hoped he would find peace. That we would write a classic novel -- together or separately.
I spent about two weeks in that hospital and Gray was not with me the whole time, just for a few moments. He was a snapshot in and of my life. Yet, I have never forgotten him. The way his simple kindness uplifted me in such a dark and confusing time. He blessed me. I experienced God through him.
There are so many people on that list for me -- strangers that turned out to be angels unaware. Who are your snapshot people? Who blessed you in a moment? Helped you grow and gave you what you needed and moved on? Who have you experienced God through?
Be thankful for them today. Their presence in your life was no accident. God reached out to you with their hands, with their words. Let us never be the same again. And may fear never keep us from making friends with the strangers God sends our way.