Joe’s is closed. The floor is drying, the last dishes are put away, the safe is locked… a woman wearing a “Following Jesus” tshirt wanders in asking who we are and who these people are on her phone… “Can you call them and ask who they are? I don’t know any of them.”
She’s from the neighborhood, but we don’t know which house exactly. She has no idea where she lives. We don’t know her last name—neither does she.
She sits on the coffee table, staring out the window into the night. Her reflection on the smudged glass is one of blank confusion.
We get directions from someone else in the community to her house and take her there. Apparently this isn’t unusual. Something she takes does this to her. Somehow, in her drugged state, she knew to come to Joe’s.
Lord have mercy.
“I came that you might have life and have it to the full.”
Christ have mercy.