The laundromat can be a terribly awkward place to meet another person. It’s hard to feel sophisticated when you’re wrestling a bulging mess of clothes into a washer, the stench of your old sweat punching everyone in the face as your unmentionables slip through your fingers. So when another girl walked into the laundromat, I decided to pretend nonchalance and carry on conversation like I was as composed as Beethoven’s Fifth.
I started by learning her name.
Jessica Audley.
It was like meeting a ghost. I’d heard of her more than once, seen her name on the church roll every week, but I hadn’t met her. And I wasn’t unique; nobody knew her. She was a faceless, voiceless placeholder in a list of people that I already knew and loved. Something pushed me, and I made a choice. Ignoring the double awkwardness of our uncomfortable setting and our unfamiliarity, I told her that we should hang out sometime.
Surprisingly, she agreed, and thus I began to know an incredible woman.
Jessica has gone through unbelievable abuse in her lifetime. All growing up, she wore long sleeve turtlenecks to hide the marks. More than once, she was raped by someone who should have loved her. And when I met her, sleep was literally a nightmare where she relived those memories of violence repeatedly.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
Sometimes, for weeks on end, she didn’t sleep at all.
I couldn’t really help, but I tried. I visited often. Occasionally, I’d watch movies with her when I should have gone to bed because I knew she wouldn’t sleep that night. I brought her into my friend circle. When I needed help, or someone else did, I’d go to her because I knew she loved being useful. I’d write her notes, letting her know how grateful I was that she would make cookies and give rides while she was knee deep in Hell.
Then I got a taste of what her life was like. This past year, I went through the same experiences of nightmares, anxiety, and sleeplessness, though to a lesser degree. And through it, she empathized, listened, and supported in ways that no one else could. Our roles in each other's lives went full circle.
Eventually, we both moved away, and now we see each other less often. But before she left, she wrote me a note, and this is part of it:
“I want to thank you for introducing yourself to me in the laundry room… Even though you would come over and visit with me just to chat, you always would ask to come over whenever I would need someone to show me or guide me through a tough time or past experience. You brought me back to Christ and showed me the power he has had in not only my life but also in the lives of the people around me...What would you do today if you knew you could not fail?... Now go do it. God will put people in your life to help you like you helped me... God has a purpose for everyone.”
Don’t let awkwardness stop you from reaching out; someone could need you as they’re going through Hell.
Don’t let the placeholders in your life stay that way.
Listen to Jessica; live as if you cannot fail.
