There are people you meet in your life who make you pause, reflect, and reassess your priorities. That was MaryJane.

I first spotted her during a memory-making birthday celebration for my sister. We were walking down a tree-lined street after a wonderful lunch together, peeking through vintage store windows and stopping for a sweet treat at a chocolate shop. She was lying on the sidewalk surrounded by an emergency medical team. Her slim body was curled in a fetal position, still and motionless, as the team tried to arouse her. I watched briefly, said a silent prayer, and continued our stroll down the street to a quaint dress shop. 

As we were returning to our car, MaryJane was still on the side street. But now the medical team was gone, and she stood precariously on the edge of the sidewalk. She was attempting to step onto the street, but her weak body could not make the necessary adjustments to take the step. I watched for a few seconds, then cautiously approached. “Hi, my name is Allison. Looks like you need a little help taking that step. Is it OK if I help you?” And with a nod, we locked arms and began the slow journey of navigating the curb and making our way across the street. 

She wore a pair of sweatpants, several sizes too large. They were badly stained and wet from the lack of a proper restroom facility. Her small feet were covered with sweat socks, their original color faded by dirt. Her nails were long and yellowing, her hair shaved, and her face leathered from years of living on the streets. She wore a hospital bracelet, a small square patch that appeared to be a remnant from an EKG lead, and a tiny ring pinched her middle finger.

The trip across the road took time. She stumbled and shuffled almost as if her legs didn’t work quite right. And throughout the trip, she asked for Ronald. “Where is Ronald?” “I need to go to Ronald!” 

I sat her in a chair outside a small bakery while my sister went in to get her something to drink. We offered her food and asked if there was anyone we could call. She asked for Ronald, then began to gently cry. 

Being the fixers that my sister and I are, we offered her a ride to the hospital, a women’s facility, or the homeless shelter. But all our offers were rejected. It seemed she had jumped through many of the support hoops before with little success and now had resigned herself to a life on the streets. In a final attempt to help, we asked MaryJane if there was anything else we could do. She shook her head no and began eating. 

We left MaryJane sitting at the sidewalk cafe.

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but think that MaryJane is someone’s daughter. She may even be someone’s mama, sister, or best friend. Yet, she sits on the street from morning to evening and then repeats it day after day. Moving her location when shooed away by unhappy store owners or forced to a shelter during the random city services sweeps, only to return when her time at the facility is complete. 

Now, before you dismiss MaryJane’s situation as a result of poor choices or suggest that she must have done something to end up on the streets (perhaps she’s an addict, doesn’t want to work, or is involved in illegal activities), let me offer a different perspective. What if we viewed MaryJane the way God sees us—a woman He created, loves, and died for? Perhaps we could allow our hearts to experience just a little of the mercy and grace that God feels for us and let that compassion move us to understand rather than judge. In this complex world, sometimes our brokenness leads us to do the craziest things. Just maybe, we can turn our immediate judgement to Jesus’ mercy and offer those who are different a listening ear and the gift of focused attention and time.

Please don’t interpret my suggestions to see the MaryJanes in our lives as an endorsement of unconditional Jesus-inspired love, which could falsely imply that we shouldn’t be wise, finance an addiction, or protect ourselves from those who would exploit or become predators. That’s not what I’m suggesting. Instead, I offer encouragement to refrain from making hasty judgments about those on the streets, those who appear different, or those who hail from different countries. Instead, control that urge and view them through the lens of our shared humanity as God’s image bearers, deeply loved and valued.

Now, whenever I think of MaryJane, I try to put on my Jesus glasses and remember to be kinder, gentler, and less prone to jumping to conclusions. I wonder if the next time you encounter someone different, you’ll take a moment to see them through a new lens, shaped by Jesus’ love for you. This simple act might transform your entire perspective, and who knows where that journey might lead you!

Be Blessed,