The strong winds came in overnight, turning things very cold. Cold weather however was always good for business.
Thankfully, the day was clear with no rain. People would be out. And since I was down to my last few pennies, I knew that I needed to make a trip into town to try and sell a few jump suits or pull-over's.
With the kids packed-off to school, I left the baby with my sister and walked the mile and a half to the highway for my bus. (We call them Micros) I had twenty-two Bolivianos in my little purse. I needed to catch three Micros into town and three back. That would leave me with thirteen Bolivianos. So I would have five for my lunch; five to bring home bread; and three to buy soap for washing clothes, even if I didn't sell anything.
When I left home, I was in high spirits. Unfortunately however, as I rode for the hour and a half into town, I was assaulted by a barrage of negative thoughts in my head. "You're poor and you're stupid" the voices railed. "You're a bad Mother! You can't even feed your children. And you won't sell anything today, you know. You won't even have enough money for bread tonight."
This went on and on until, by the time I arrived at the Bazaar, I felt really sad. I know we're not supposed to listen to such thoughts. I know that God doesn't send them and that we have to fight with our faith to not let them get us down. But sometimes with all the things I have to do, it's not so easy. Sometimes, I get really tired.
After three hours in the Bazaar, I had sold nothing. This was really unusual though, so I just kept trying. But when lunchtime came and I still hadn't sold anything; the ugly voices in my head mocked, "You can't sell anything. What good are your prayers? You give your money to the church instead of your kids. You're a bad Mother!"
Unable to concentrate and feeling really down, I thought that if perhaps I ate lunch, I might feel better. I found my way to the market kitchen. And soon, eating soup that was just as hot as the day was cold; my plan seemed to be working, when suddenly, an old lady came by begging.
She was thin as a pencil and dirty; sixty-five years old or maybe older. Her hair was unkept. She seemed concerned for her appearance. Yet, there was something about her person. Whatever it was, my attention was riveted to her; first to her movements among the people around me, and then to her eyes, as she stopped just beside me, looking down into my face.
There are many, many poor people and beggars in my city, but it is very unusual for a person to look you in the eye when they are begging from you. And more unusual still was this strange something which I saw in her eyes.
The lady had not spoken to me directly, only stopped there beside me. Our eyes locked; her standing there looking down at me from above while I sat there on the bench, spoon hovering above my soup, not knowing what to do next as I stared up at her.
What I saw in her eyes was that she didn't want to ask me for anything. It wasn't pride, but almost something more like a care for me beyond herself. It felt as if she was seeing my whole life and hearing everything those evil voices had been saying to me all day. And like only a Mother's look can do; her eyes spoke back to me in this incredible way saying, "Those voices are a lie. You are not a bad person."
"Would you like a bowl of soup?" I suddenly blurted out. And next thing I knew; Senora Julia was sitting there beside me like we had known each other for a very long time instead of just moments.
She shared with me that she was also a widow and how essentially, her family had abandoned her to the streets. It was all very sad. But when she finished, I began to tell her how God had intervened in my life when I was looking at nothing but death.
It was a very strange moment. And I know it sounds strange to say it this way, but it felt like my words were stroking her like one might softly pet a dog. So I kept talking and talking about all the things God had done for me. How He had always been faithful to me, even when my own family had not. And as I talked, it suddenly felt to me like God Himself was "petting me" in that same way - And telling me, "Yes Olga, I'm always right here."
Something very special happens when God gives you the gift of a divine moment like that. I really don't know how to describe it in words, other than to say; that in such a moment there is a deep knowing that God really is Love. And that He is not distant at all, but right here with each one of us in the world; right where we are; all the time.
Another thing about meeting and connecting with a person in this divine way is that you never like for the meeting to end. I had to excuse myself however, because I needed to be back by the time my children would be home from school.
Looking in my purse, I separated the coins I needed for the Micro and offered the other three Bolivianos to Senora Julia. She took them. And then she took my hand and patted it, saying; "God bless you."
As I walked off a little ways, I turned around to look back at her one more time, but she had disappeared into the sea of people. I hoped she would be alright. I knew that I would probably never see her again. But then I thought how God knew where she was and what she needed; and that gave me joy.
Reaching the Micro stop however; the evil voices again returned to taunt me. "You are SO stupid!" they said. "You have no bread. What will you feed your children when you get home? You don't even have soap to wash their clothes. What a horrible Mother! What were you thinking, buying food and giving your money away to a stranger?!"
A fear and disgust came over me. I had spent my children's bread money to buy the Senora's soup! What had I been thinking?
Burying my face in my hands on the Micro, I tried to block out the noise of the traffic. "What in the world was I thinking Lord?" I said within myself. And when I said it that way, speaking out to the Lord in my heart; I was suddenly reminded of a scripture:
"Never forget to be hospitable to strangers, because sometimes they might be angels"
Hebrews 13:2
The voices didn't leave me alone, but while I traveled on my first two Micros toward home, I concentrated on that scripture instead of what the voices were trying to say to me. It couldn't have been wrong to help Senora Julia. It couldn't be wrong to love someone who needed to be loved. It may not have been smart; but it wasn't wrong. I was not a bad Mother.
I had to wait a long time for my last Micro because they get really crowded at that hour each day. When I finally did catch one, there was no place to sit except beside a very finely dressed lady. That was something one doesn't see everyday in Santa Cruz - A lady like that on a Micro.
I hesitated to sit next to her, but she glanced up at me as if to say, "Go ahead and sit down."
Settling my large bag of unsold clothes on my lap, I looked at her as she stared out of the window. For some reason, I felt like she was sad. And without really thinking much about it, I said: "God knows Senora."
"What?" She said; turning her face back toward me, surprised that I had spoken.
"God knows our lives Senora' I said shyly, recognizing that we were both from very different worlds. And when it seemed like it had comforted her, I said: "He knows how we feel and what our hearts need."
I thought she was going to say something, but instead, without saying anything; she turned her head again to stare out the window. Thinking that maybe she was offended with me in some way, I just stayed quiet from there on.
Two kilometers before my own stop, the lady called to the driver to stop. I set my bag a little behind me in the aisle and swung my legs around so she could pass. As she did, she placed one hand on my shoulder and leaned down. "Thank you my dear" she almost whispered. And then, she was gone.
Retrieving my bag from the aisle; I scooted over to the window as another woman sat down next to me. The next two kilometers went by quickly. And soon, I was calling for the driver to stop.
The lady next to me helped me with my cumbersome bag as I made my way out past her into the aisle. When I reached the first step to disembark the Micro however, the lady called out from behind me:
"S e n o r a! You forgot your other bag."
It all happened very quickly. She pulled a large white plastic shopping bag out from under the seat where I had been sitting and shoved it toward me. The driver was impatient. He was edging the bus forward. And next thing I knew, I was standing on the side of the road all alone with that bag in my hand.
Looking back in the direction we had come from; I thought about the rich lady that had obviously forgotten the white plastic bag. I didn't have the money to take a Micro back in her direction. And since I didn't know her name; it would probably be impossible to find her anyway.
Shuffling my way a little further away from the side of the road, I set my clothing bag down and put the white plastic bag on top of it. I opened the bag. And what I found inside made me cry.
In the bag was a kilo of flour, a bottle of cooking oil, and some fresh butter. This was more than enough for me to go home and make fried bread crisps for the children to eat with their coffee. Besides this, there was clothes washing soap and bleach. And even further down in the bag was a kilo of sugar; two kilos of rice; and two bars of soap. All much more than I ever could have bought with what little I had before meeting Senora Julia!
What really made me cry however was what I found at the very bottom of the bag. Just that same morning, my eleven year old daughter Viviana, had asked me: "Mommy. If you sell enough; can you buy some shampoo. You know; that green shampoo that smells so good?" Well, until this very moment, I had forgotten she'd even asked. We never had money for such luxuries. But there, in the bottom of the plastic bag, was a large bottle of the very shampoo she had asked me for!
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I couldn't say if I had a visit from an angel, (or maybe even two) that day, but I know this. God loves me. And He loved me enough that day to reveal Himself to me from such a lowly place as under a public bus seat. He knew my life. He knew exactly where I'd be sitting. And just as He has at so many other times; again, He showed Himself faithful to care for me.
LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.
Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising,
thou understandest my thought afar off.
Thou compassest my path and my lying down,
and art acquainted with all my ways.
Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.
Psalm 139:1-6
(More About Olga's Life)
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