Well-coiffed, the diminutive woman found me as the community meal crowd dissipated. She’d smiled and watched without speaking as I bantered and chatted at her table earlier in the evening. Perhaps in her forties, Johnna was well-groomed, pleasant, and a good conversationalist. My concern increased as we spoke; single women are particularly vulnerable on the street. Our relationship as pastor and unhoused community member would last another ten months.

Despite her reassurances that “I am ok. I have a secret place to sleep,” her anxiety was palpable. It soon became apparent that her perception of others was filtered through suspicion. Yet, in each case, I had independent knowledge that her paranoia was based in reality (if embellished).

The day Johnna told me “they” were going to catch up with her and commit her, she said, “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. God bless you, pastor.”

That still cuts.

I did so little. Like many unhoused individuals, Johnna learned to expect so little from people, even those who pledged to be God’s servants. I’d given her granola bars, listened to her, and shared space in my office closet for a time. The space allowed her to show up at job interviews without her possessions.

I missed her after she was gone. Her intellect, insight, and humor were a joy. I particularly remember the day she showed up at Bible Study. Johnna kept up with the intellectual and spiritual discussion of the lively group of educated women. But, I had sold her short, thinking she’d be lost.

Feeling gratitude for the time I had còmhla ri (together with)Johnna, I wonder about her from time to time.

About Posts Marked Còmhla Ri

I was còmhla ri (together with) the people described in these pages during my life. Some I knew for a long time, others I lacked even their names. Some may appear only once because our connection was fleeting. A few may appear more than once because we were together over time. I knew some of the characters in the physical world and others, like my Grandpa Scotty, through mystical experiences. Those posts bear Ancestors as a category. People in the physical world are categorized as Adulthood or Childhood, depending upon when I knew them. Some names are changed to protect people’s privacy.