She looked like an animal. Wild-eyed, teeth bared.
“She’s controlling me with her mind!” she screamed to the cop. “She’s only seventeen! She’s lying! Her name is Heidi Klum and her mom’s name is Michelle Obama!”
Two days prior, I looked at her and talked to her and knew her.
This day, she was a stranger before my eyes.
911 was called. Emergency personnel came.
“You’re not going to quit, are you?” my coworker asked, obviously seeing emotion on my face and being unable to read it.
No, I’m not quitting. I am more convinced than ever that this work I’m doing is important. To look wild-eyed people in the eyes and not look away or run, but to feel tender-hearted compassion for them? That’s important.
My coworker said she saw paramedics laughing at the scene unfolding before them. Laughing. No, there’s nothing funny about this. This is sad. Not pathetic, but tragic. Sad.
I wished I could fix it. I wished my relationship with her could serve as some sort of flotation device, something to help her silence the crazy in her head. I wished she could lock her eyes on mine and know I’m real and I’m not going anywhere. And maybe her head is full of things about FBI agents and having her brain hacked, but I’m real and I care, and I wished in that moment, somehow, that could matter.
At one point, I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and be like, “Actually, just take us both. Let’s just allllll go to the hospital.”
Victory happens in the choosing.
God isn’t holding out on me.
He is not deaf to the cries of my heart.
I will choose surrender.
And He will bring the victory.