Summer Sojourns, Part 3: People of Oxford

I was lost.

Now, to be fair, I meant get lost.

I had this great idea to do an urban walkabout in Oxford, to intentionally wander aimlessly and see where I found myself. What I neglected to consider was my lack of any sense of direction, which is rather important for finding one's way back.

After about 20 minutes of unintentional wandering and frequent glances at the city maps (which are thankfully common on Oxford streets), I managed to find familiar ground.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped toward the crosswalk. As I waited for the light to turn green, I heard someone call out, "Excuse me, young lady." I looked around for the source of the voice.

The woman speaking was resting against the building behind me, sitting on the little outcropped edge of the building's base. "Excuse me, but I see you're wearing a cross. Are you a believer?" she asked. Her voice was slow and steady, her words layered with a heavy accent I couldn't identify, suggesting that English was not her first language.

It took me a moment to answer. In my mind, I noticed her messy dark hair pulled back in a bun, her deep brown skin starting to show signs of age. Her eyes were wide and focused on me, and I admit for a moment, I was nervous. Warnings from overly-cautious, well-meaning adults danced in my head, reminding me that it might not be safe to advertise my American-ness or Christianity here is another country.  But then my pause lasted too long, and I answered the only way I could.

"Yes."

She smiled and nodded. "Good. I am a believer too," she laid her palm on her chest and then waved her hand back toward me. "Now, excuse me young lady, but can I ask you a question?"

I stepped closer to her. "Sure."

"Do you believe God understands us?" She leaned forward as she spoke, crinkling her brow as though deep in thought. "I know He hears us when we pray, but does he understand?

You see, I have two children. They are both in their 30's and they are alone. I have been praying for God to give them spouses, but still they are unmarried. So I think to myself, perhaps He doesn't understand." Her voice was rough with uncertainty, wanting to know the reason for God's apparent silence.

"I think that He always hears us," I said slowly, trying to think of how to best phrase my response, "But, just like a father doesn't always grant the wishes of the child, God doesn't always give us exactly what we request."

"Ah, I see." Her eyes prompted me to continue.

"We have to remember that God's timing is different from ours. That everything happens according to His plan. While we might not always like it, God's time is always best."

"Yes, I agree. Thank you, young lady. " She looked content and leaned forward again, "So you think that when it is right, God will give my children spouses?"

I floundered for a moment, and then answered that I think if her children wanted to get married, God would help them find the right people. (Part of me was very unsure of this answer, because what do I know about marriage? But it seemed to satisfy her.)

After a few moments, we ended up discussing how God works in the small everyday parts of life. She was in perfect agreement with me on this note.

"You see, I am a cleaning lady," she told me, "and I work at the college. One of my jobs is to gather the trash. At times the bag gets heavy from being full. Now, you will laugh at me, I know, but I must tell you, one day I was bringing out the trash. The bin is very high, and the bag was so heavy that I could barely carry it. Now, I picked it up and I prayed, 'God, on the count of three, give me the strength to lift this into the bin.' And when I counted to three, I tell you, the bag felt lighter and I threw it in." She looked at me with a grin and a shake of her head, "I say this to make you laugh. But He really helped me."

After a few more minutes of talking, I asked if I could pray for her, and her eyes lit up as she nodded and told me her name, and the names of her two children. I held her hands and spoke to the Lord with this woman, half way around the world from home, right there on the side of the street.

As I finished, she thanked me again and asked me about myself, whether I was a student and what my major was. While she looked at my intently with her brown eyes, rimmed with a sliver of blue, I explained what I was studying and said, "I can't imagine doing anything else."

She nodded her head and repeated my phrase. "I can't imagine doing anything else. That, that seals it for me. That tells me it was planned, that it was meant to be, "she said.

As this woman thanked me for encouraging her, and told me it had been a blessing meeting me, I thanked her in return and hugged her. But as she kissed both my cheeks, like a grandmother saying goodbye to a grandchild, I don't think she knew how much the conversation meant to me.

With her words, this woman had reaffirmed for me my entire focus in college, making me feel that what I am studying is worth it. She reminded me of what I believe, and while I don't know if I said all the right things or not, I know meeting her was one of the highlights of my trip. A highlight I almost missed, because when I looked at her, I focused on her appearance and forgot her voice.

When we parted, she said to me, "Let me tell you one last thing you lady. Enjoy every moment, always be happy, and focus on God." She patted my hand as though to seal in her words. And as I walked away, I smiled, thinking how glad I was that I had gotten lost.