During my first two years of college I lived in a dorm. You know, the kind with the dirty floors and hall bathrooms. I didn’t mind though. I loved every minute of living in a confined area with 60 other girls. Some of my best memories from college took place in Hedgpeth Hall. From prank wars to sleepovers to silly dress-up parties…we had a blast.
One day I was coming back to the dorm after a long morning of classes and was looking forward to my daily 2:00 nap (oh, the joys of being a college student!). While I was about to go in my room I noticed the housekeeper carrying two large trash bags from the bathroom. I had seen her in passing before but had never really paid much attention to her.
In my heart, I was having one of those “I know I should talk to her, but I’m really tired” conversations with God. Somehow I knew he was nudging me to give her a hand.
“Can I help you with those bags ma’am?” I asked nervously.
She looked startled but as she looked up at me her expression softened and she said, “Well…if you don’t mind. These bags are heavy!”
The middle-aged African American woman seemed tired and from the look in her eyes, I could tell she had had a rough life.
I introduced myself as I lifted one of the bags and carried it outside.
“It’s nice to meet you, baby. My name’s Donna,” she said.
I smiled when I heard her loud, friendly voice.
My heart was still pounding, so I knew God was telling me my conversation with her wasn’t finished yet.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, “I don’t have much, but I think I have some candy in my room.”
“Girl, you know I could use some chocolate!” she said with a sly grin. I had a feeling that Ms. Donna and I would get along just fine.
Ms. Donna came into my dorm room and plopped down on my not-so-comfortable futon.
I brought out my candy stash and as we filled our mouths with Reese’s cups and Snickers bars we developed a friendship that would grow over the next few years.
After that day, Ms. Donna would stop by room during her rounds. She would pop her head in with a grin and say, “Hey baby girl! You got any candy?!”
I would always laugh and say, “You know I do, Ms. Donna. Come on in!”
My futon became her place to rest in between mopping and taking out the trash. One day when I came back to the dorm, my roommate had a puzzled look on her face and told me that a housekeeper had come by looking for me. By the end of the semester, she knew the routine and would offer Ms. Donna a piece of candy on the days I wasn’t there.
I quickly learned that Ms. Donna had indeed had a hard life. She was raised by various family members and dropped out of school when she got pregnant at 15. She never finished school and was in and out of trouble most of her life. She had just recently gotten out of prison and was struggling to make ends meet when I met her.
On the outside our friendship probably looked strange: A twenty-year-old “good girl” and a fifty-something ex-prisoner. But I think that God brought Ms. Donna into my life to teach me that though Ms. Donna and I were different, we both needed Him in the same way.
One day Ms. Donna confided in me with tears in her eyes, “I don’t have no life. I don’t have nothing. I’m just a piece of junk. I make $6.15 an hour, Meredith.”
My heart broke for this lady. I was deeply saddened, not only by her situation, but by the fact that it had taken me a whole semester to even make eye contact with her.
God had placed Ms. Donna in my dorm, on my hall, and for months I had simply passed her by, busy with my Bible studies and homework and social activities.
I painfully began to notice the similarities between myself and the religious leaders in the parable of the Good Samaritan. In the past, whenever I had read about the priest and the Levite who passed by the dying man, I always thought, “Those hypocrites! They are the reason people are turned off by Christians.”
I guess I had always hoped and assumed that I would fall under the category of “Good Samaritan.” But this time, I saw myself not as the Good Samaritan, but as the one who passed by the man who was beaten, naked, and hurting.
I couldn’t even count the number of times I have passed by hurting people without even noticing them, because, well…I didn’t notice them. I tell you this story about Ms. Donna not to portray myself as a Good Samaritan, but to point out the hundreds, maybe even thousands of Donna’s I could have encountered had I been more observant and more willing to reach out.
Sometimes it’s just easier to do my own thing; To listen to my iPod when I’m walking down the street or keep my head in a book when I’m sitting in a waiting room. I use my busyness as an excuse to not go out of my way to help others. But what if I was more like the Good Samaritan? What if I allowed God to use my hands, feet and heart to love on others every day?
My friendship with Ms. Donna has grown through the years. After I moved out of the dorm, we continued to meet on campus to talk. I would always leave our meetings with my sides hurting from laughing so hard! Though we live far apart now, I still communicate with her through letters and phone calls. I have learned a lot from Ms. Donna and God has given me the chance to share his love with her. I never would have had that opportunity had I not listened to that nudge I felt from God that day when I was on my way to take a nap.
I want to have more friendships like the one I share with Ms. Donna. I want to notice people and be willing to reach out to them. I want to listen to their stories and learn from them…even if it just means eating chocolate on an old futon.
