Tonight I headed back to CSUN
For another fun-filled week of school!
This weekend, however, I intended to exit at Devonshire instead of Nordoff like usual, because Devonshire is closer to the dorms.
But I forgot.

When I exited at Nordoff, I saw an older lady with a sign, “Need Coffee. Please Help”.

I had seen her last week and driven past, wondering if I should do something.
I didn’t do anything and honestly forgot about her until I was heading down the off ramp again.
This time, I felt compelled.

I pulled into the AM PM just off the exit and went inside. Coffee I knew I would get, but I wanted to give her something to eat, as well. Something filling, something relatively healthy, something with plenty of calories and fat; the lady looked skin and bones.

I had planned on donuts, because what else is there at a gas station besides chips? I glanced around, though, and saw trail mix.
Perfect.

I didn’t have any cash (seriously, who carries cash anymore?), and AM PM charges that 45 cent fee, the bastards, but I slide my debit card at the register anyway and walked out the door.

I felt nervous as I walked the hundred or so yards to the freeway off ramp. Would she appreciate it, would she be rude and preferred cash instead, what would I say as I hand her the Styrofoam cup?

I start to cross the street to the side she’s standing on; the little green walking man was lit so I had no wait. Crossing, I see her glance at me, look back up the exit, glance at me again. I could see the question: why is a white girl walking toward the wrong side of the 405?

I step on the curb and say ineloquently, “Here you go.” My brilliant speech I pondered over as I purchased and walked over.

The lady’s mouth dropped in a gasp; she’s missing her front teeth. How hard must her life have been? “Thank you…” she says. “God bless you.”

“And this,” I hand her the trail mix. Hard to believe I had a college age reading level before leaving grade school.

“Oh I love these,” she tells me. “Thank you. God bless.”

“I wanted to find something filling.”

“God bless you.” She does appreciate. Nothing to worry about, Rosie.

I smile; I can’t help it. “Well, Jesus loves you.”

She looks at me and says with sincerity, “He does, because He sent me someone like you.”

I don’t think I’ve been so proud of myself in a long, long time.

I thank God for using me to help this lady. I hope and pray that He’ll see fit to use me again to serve His purpose.

One could argue I was simply raised to be a kind and generous person, but I know better. I know the nudge I was given to do what I did. I know God’s hand was on me.

What I hope more, though, is that someone saw what I did. Not because I want them to think highly of me. No, because I want them to be inspired to do something to help another themselves.

And pass it on.

And on.

And on.

Because Jesus loves everyone.

And you know what, the 45 cent debit fee was worth it.