I really should have been on my way to church by that time, but instead I was sobbing at the kitchen table and looking at prices for tickets. I could be home by Thursday.
Eventually I went to church, slipping in the back row and trying to remain inconspicuous. (What a joke!) I was exhausted, which meant that my French (both understanding and speaking) were worse than usual. I felt hopelessly lost and out of place. Locking myself in the church restroom crossed my mind a few times.
Of all the days she could have showed up, that was the day. Her name was Grace, and she was a reflection of exactly that.
In the hubbub of voices I couldn't follow, she was there, quiet and undemanding. She sat with me during the lunch meeting. After it was over, we got on the bus together. When I handed her my change for the fare, she pressed it back into my hand and told me not to worry about it.
She came all the way to my apartment with me. I invited her in and we sat in my living room, barely able to have a conversation. She told me she was a singer touring from another West African country. So she sang for me. I'm not sure what inspired her to pick the song she did, but she sang about God being on His throne. That's all I remember of the song. Of course she had no idea of the inner struggle I was experiencing, but God did, and He wanted me to rest in His sovereignty.
It was an unlikely friendship, one that still makes me smile to think of. I mean, she was visiting from another country and "just happened" to show up at the church I was at. And in spite of my halting French, she wanted to be my friend.
She stayed in the city for a few months, recording for an album. We had lunch together a few times and she usually accompanied me home after church (she was staying not too far from me). She'd call me from time to time, just to see how I was doing.
Sometimes we'd be sitting together, silently enjoying the company, and she'd say, "Rachel, God is good. He's so, so good." I'd smile back because I had nothing to say, and because I needed to just let that truth sink into my soul.
It really was like God's grace - unexpected, quiet, there. There in my need. There when I felt alone. There to remind me of truth.
The day came when she told me she'd be going back. We prayed together in the church kitchen and I walked with her out to the bus stop.
I haven't heard from her since, but I'll always think of her as a sweet gift God decided to surprise me with that day in February.
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