A strange thing happened some time ago. I got a text from a stranger who thought I was her brother. Someone gave her my number and told her it was her estranged brother's. I don't think it was an accident. In fact, I know it wasn't, though the person who gave her the number couldn't have known. Even when I texted her that I was not her brother, she desperately reached out with a voice of pain and loss. She needed someone to talk to. I let her call me because she sounded so forlorn.
She lives on the other end of the continent. She has lost her career, her future, had her child kidnapped [and eventually returned], and gone through so much unimaginable hardship. She has all but lost her faith. She's been crying out to God into what felt like a void to her, not hearing His voice but longing to know He was there for her.
I'm sure the Lord has been reaching back, but she was unable to hear Him. So He sent me into her life. She's facebooked and texted me a few times since, whenever she needed a voice of peace in her life. Someone to just listen. Those who understand tragedy and loss seek the voice and understanding of other people who understand what that's like. I know I've wanted to hear a voices of understanding, those of people who don't judge me or tell me how to think or feel. Often, when you're feeling hurt, lost, and alone, you want someone who will listen and reach out without seeking anything from you.
I told her God loves her, no matter what, that there is nothing she could ever do to destroy that love. I told her that even though she can't always hear His voice, He is reaching out to her, wanting her to find peace and joy. She felt bad for things she'd done in her life, so I told her to tell the Lord how sorry she was and to make amends if possible. Above all, though, I just wanted her to know God loves her. That was the message He most wanted her to hear.
I know it was no accident that I was there for a fellow human being at one of the lowest points in her life. And I know I was there to reach out and help her. We will never meet in person. But I hope I helped her, even in a small way, because that is the purpose of life: to learn to love like our Father in Heaven loves us and to show that love to both Him and to our fellow men through kindness and service. We are to be His voice, His hands, to those who need us. He will guide us along the way.
I don't know how I would have reacted to this wrong number before my losses taught me empathy and compassion for lost souls. I'd like to think I would have been polite, but I would not have known how to speak the language of loss and pain. I know that was part of why I needed to go through what I have so I could become closer to what the Lord wants me to become. I still feel the pain, but it's good to know what I've learned through loss can help someone else.
