Out of Control

I walked into a bar on Wednesday night and immediately some woman covered her face. Why? I don't know. (Maybe I just have that effect on people.)

Her friend cut in on her, started talking my ear off -- angry, beat up by life. She's Navaho, had a bad family experience. She trotted out her spiritual pedigree -- it's one of the most common reactions to seeing a minister in a bar. I'll sit down, and immediately some guy will say "I used to be an altar boy, thought about being a priest, grandma took me to Sunday School, I went to Catholic grade school," etc etc etc.

My Navaho friend talked about sage grass and visions and other Navaho practices. But this was no exchange or conversation. She was angry at life, angry at me, just angry. I let her run with it. I did not say a word. Finally, she ran down, and asked me what I thought about it all. "I'm just here to listen."

She was amazed. That was the last answer she thought she would get. She wandered off to another patron.

Now I could turn my attention to her friend, the woman who covered her face when I walked into the bar.

She too, shared some of the pain of her life -- homeless, separated from loved ones. But at the heart of her sorrow was remorse and repentance. We had only a few moments together, but as I was leaving she asked for me to pray for her.

I put my hand on her, and said a prayer, but I used her street handle "Coyote*." She quietly interupted. "Use my Christian name." So I blessed her and sought God's help for her, using her "real" name.
--Rick
*all the names and aliases are changed in this blog.