A Different World?

A crack ran across the glass of the door that opened into the building. The first floor storefronts held empty reminders of better economic times and businesses that had moved on. Her apartment was one of four on the second floor. As I opened the door to walk upstairs, I immediately noticed the smell and the atmosphere. The stairs were uneven with carpet pulled back revealing well-worn steps that had been used well past their prime. The air was filled with a musty, dirty smell and the stairwell was dark and dingy, with large holes scattered throughout the walls. I was greeted by my friend and escorted to her apartment. It was the first time I had been there. At the top of the stairs she opened a door that hung crooked on its hinges and she welcomed me into her home.

Washing dishes as we walked into her small kitchen was her boyfriend, tattoos covering his neck and arms, looking like someone I would not want to meet if I was alone. As much as I tried to strike up a conversation with him, he remained very cold and distant. She later told me he was very suspicious as to why I would want to be in contact with her because it didn’t really make sense. Why would I, a friend of her parents, twice her age, want to be a friend and not only call and talk to her, but to invite her to church? He didn’t want any part of it.

As I walked through the kitchen, I noticed the mismatched, well-worn furniture and felt the slope of the warped floors. I entered the living room to see a beautiful face that belonged to their adorable seven month old little girl. I picked her up and she immediately began smiling and jabbering, enjoying all the attention. The room was stark and bare, with only a few rattles for toys, but that little baby’s energy radiated throughout the entire place. This was my friend’s world.

Here I was, standing in a world so completely apart from mine, yet I couldn’t stop wondering what makes me so different from her? Could this have been me and my life? In my world, my friends are leaders in the community, business owners, pastors, teachers, and doctors. Her friends struggle to hold a job, to pay bills, are familiar with all the courts, and raise children in poverty. I’ve been in situations, some by my own choices and some by circumstances, that could have put me in the exact same world. Am I any different? Am I different from my friend, different from any woman sitting in a prison cell for bad choices or tough circumstances or different from any woman struggling to raise her children? Could I have been living their lives instead?

I’m no different, except that I am here, in my world. I’m experiencing the things I’ve always desired…friends, acceptance, love, security…everything that we all want. If I’m no different, then maybe they are looking for friends, for a way out, for understanding, or for someone to care. If I’m no different, then maybe I can relate and maybe it’s time to reach out. It might be messy and it might get complicated but how can I walk away? It would be so much easier to stay surrounded in this shell, but maybe it’s time to step outside my world and give them all that has been given to me. Maybe it’s what I’m supposed to do…