Saturday, December 29, 2012

K-Mart, a transgender, & prayer



It’s Christmas Eve.

I’m frantically walking the aisles of K-Mart.

I turn down the baking aisle and I see him standing at the end of the aisle.

Call it curiosity, or what have you, but  I was drawn to him.

His dark, long hair, deep eyes, & pale skin.   Who was he?  What is his story?

He must have felt my stare and simply gave me a smile.  With sincerity in my eyes, I smiled back.

We passed by each other and I went back to looking for sugar.

He must have been as curious as I was for he came back around to make conversation with me.

“The choices are slim tonight aren’t they?”  he jokingly asked.

“Yes, they are.  It seems as though I’m out of luck when it comes to finding what I need.”  I replied.

With a 6-pack of Blue Moon and a few cans of soup, he said, “It looks like my items will have to hold me over until after Christmas.”

“Do you not have plans for Christmas Day?”  I genuinely questioned.

“No, I don’t.  I’m new in town and am not partial to celebrating holidays.  They’re not really special anyways.”  He said.

By the tone in his voice, I didn’t buy it.  He stood in front of me in despair.  His life seemed to take some dark turns.

“Why don’t you come over to our house?”

As the words slipped from my mouth, my heartbeat soared.  I began to question myself.  I don’t even know this guy.  Some may call me foolish.

But, I don’t really care what the world will call me.

“Oh, no.  I couldn’t do that.  I’m so shy that I would just sit there.  I wouldn’t want to intrude.”  He gratefully explained.

“Oh, but you won’t intrude.  Trust me, all of us need someone to spend Christmas with.  If you change your mind, let me know.  I‘ll be in here for awhile.”

With that, we said our goodbyes.

I walked a few more aisles.  My thoughts were consumed with him.

As I turned down one end of the chips aisle, he turned down the other end.  We faced each other again.

My palms became sweaty & I looked into his sad eyes and smiled again.

“Hey, what’s your name?”  He asked me.

“I’m Jackie.  What is your name?”

“I’m Jayme*.”

We shook hands.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jayme.  I’d like to give you my phone number.  If you change your mind, our dinner starts at 4pm tomorrow.  Give my husband and I a call.  We’d love to have you over.”

He handed me his Iphone & I plugged my number into his cell.  It wasn’t until I left the store that I realized  I had made a mistake.

I didn’t get his number.

In our brief interactions, I realized that most of us celebrate Christmas as the day of our Savior’s birth.  The day that brought us hope, love, peace, joy….

Joy.

It is a fruit of the Holy Spirit, coming just second on the list behind love.
It captivated the focus of Jesus Christ. For the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, scorned the shame and sat down on the right hand of the throne of God.

Joy.

Joy stakes everything on the truth that death could not hold Jesus Christ in the grave. Any circumstance, past present or future, cannot alter that.

For we will one day be reunited with Him.

But to some, like Jayme, it’s just another holiday without any real significance.

I desire for his phone call.

I desire for Jayme, born a man, but now a ‘woman’, to come into our family.

The radical love inside of me wants to share with him the hope that Christ brings.

We don’t just get together on Christmas to celebrate his birth.

No, we celebrate His life, love, & resurrection on a daily basis.  For He is that GOOD!

For Christ can redeem even the worst of sinners, trust me on this.  I once was one of the worst.

I believe without a doubt that Christ can do this for Jayme.

So until I receive his call, I will pray.

Not like a “I’ll pray for you” type of statement, but a bold, begging woman prayer.

A prayer that sends a nagging tug on his heart for something greater.

A prayer that ignites a bush to catch aflame and make his knees tremble.

A prayer that strips away despair  and replaces it with joy.

For it is our Mighty God that can move mountains.

And without a shadow of doubt, I know that He can tap the shoulder of one man.  A tap that turns him
around and into the arms of His grace.

Of His mercy.

Of His forgiveness.

As Jayme left the store, he shouted out to me, “If I see you again, don’t be a stranger, Jackie.”

I smiled and secretly promised, “I’m going to carry you to the feet of Jesus.  You deserve just that.”





*Name changed.






4 comments:

  1. I too will be praying that Jaymie calls and that God guides him to the healing power of Jesus through your family!

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  2. I am praying also, I know that God will have his hand in this. Bless you!

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  3. WOW! The only thing this needs is a social media share bar - I would love to continue this through the interwebs, to have more people meet you and to pray for this Blue Moon and soup person ...

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  4. I'm catching up on your blog and am having a hard time seeing through my tears enough to read. You are such a beautiful picture of the Gospel at work. I want to be you when I grow up. I will be praying for Jaymie's phone call to come soon!

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