by Christa Bumgarner
“Judgmental, careless, hurt, and confused, that’s what you are,” I said.
“How can you say that?” You asked.
“Because it’s the truth; you’re so lost, and you know it. You just can’t admit it to yourself,” I replied, looking down at you.
“You can’t say that to me. You don’t even know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re right; I don’t. But I can see the hurt in your eyes, the confusion on your face, the carelessness in how you act and the judgment in how you talk to me.” I sat down next to you and looked you straight in the face. You were taken aback with silence—nothing to say.
“When I look down deep in your soul all I see is emptiness. You’re light has gone out. You’re left here with nothing and no one,” I said.
“Just stop it! You don’t know what you’re talking about,” You said, starting to stand up.
“But I do, and you know it,” I said grabbing your wrist and pulling you back down. “The truth hurts sometimes, but the truth is something we have to face; it’s reality. Stop trying to hide your pain and just face it.”
Again, you were speechless.
“Easier said than done,” You finally spoke, breaking the few awkward moments of silence.
“That’s true,” I replied. “But with my help you can make it through. I’m here for you whether you want me to or not. I’m always going to be here.”
You looked at me with those sad, dark eyes—weathered with many years of hardship. I reached over and removed the tears from your face. You looked so pitiful sitting there like a helpless child needing comfort from its mother. I couldn’t think of why I so readily reached out to a stranger, but there was just something about you that reached out to me looking for the love and attention you’d been missing.
We didn’t see each other much after that conversation—just a little here and there. We didn’t really talk when we would see each other either—just a smile and a nod of understanding. Yet, every time I saw you, you were happy and surrounded by friends. You took what I said to heart and changed. You went from dark and lonely to bright and full of life. My mother always told me to not talk to strangers, but that was a risk I was willing to take; and with that risk that was a life I helped to change.