Crisp leaves jumped off the street as the cool autumn wind whisked by cleaning the pavement. Downtown was quiet this morning. I was feeling downcast and achy, not very pretty. I walked down Tejon street headed to Starbucks to get a hot tea. Three homeless guys were sitting on the corner. I heard their normal babble, “Hey pretty girl…have a nice day.”
I had worked downtown for four years and grew immune to their comments. I usually just ignored them and went on my way.
Today was different.
In the homeless crowd huddled in front of the store, one guy shouted out, “I hope you realize the beauty you bring to this crazy world.”
What? My head did a double take and I mumbled a quick thank you but kept walking.
I bought tea for me and my friend and then contemplated crossing the street to walk back to my car on the other side. But the Holy Spirit gently nudged me to walk back the same route, past the huddled guys.
I obeyed.
With a large hot tea in each hand, I walked with care. As I got closer, I removed my sunglasses and looked the men in the eyes. The man who made the beautiful remark, asked me again, “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“No,” I muttered.
“Do you have one minute and 35 seconds to talk,” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
I listened. He proceeded to speak over me in a loud, commanding voice.
“You need to be told ten times a day how beautiful you are,” he said. He pointed to the building in front of us. “Turn around and look at yourself, he said.
I did not feel beautiful, but I looked anyway.
He continued in prose that was more like a prayer. He exclaimed that God made my beauty to be seen and given to the world. Once I recognized and acknowledged my beauty I would see everything around me as beautiful. And then my beauty would radiate out into the world. He spoke a prophetic message and prayed over me. He proclaimed that God created me to represent His beauty.
I had been struggling with my beauty for a long time. I did not feel beautiful. I just turned 54, and was carrying around an extra 30 pounds that I could not seem to lose. I felt tired and empty.
But this man, or messenger of God, met me where I was. He saw something in me that had been hidden. He shed light on it and it was exposed. I cried, and felt the Holy Spirit touch my skin, giving me the goose bumps. I felt the warmth of a wool blanket fall over me. My face softened and the pretty came back.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Shaku,” he said. “It’s my spiritual name, but my given name is Henry.”
“Nice to meet you Henry,” I said. He smiled, lighting up his dirty, cold face.
“Could I pray for you, Shaku?” I said.
“Yes!” He said.
I reached to put my hand on his shoulder and he grabbed it saying, “Put your hand on my head.”
In faith, I placed my hand on his cold head and prayed. The words flowed through me from the Holy Spirit. I prayed that God would bless him a hundred fold for the blessings and joy he gave to others. I prayed for protection and provision and a scripture verse that resonated with Henry and brought him to tears.
Even though he was a homeless, he did not lack courage or joy. He cried like a baby and rested his head on my shoulder.
It was the most beautiful moment. Two strangers on Tejon street locked in love’s embrace, being the vessels for God to move through to give each of us what we needed at that precise moment.