The Greater Act of Love

A friend of mine lives in a house that she technically no longer owns. A squatter. She worked for me at one time and when I left that job, we lost contact. Since then she worked several jobs and after being fired one final time, she’s never found another.

To be honest, I think she made some bad choices. Drugs. Men. Roommates. She was depressed and alone. But thanks to social media we reconnected.

Soon she asked for help; a ride into town to donate her plasma, to which I agreed. During our short weekly trip into town, we discussed getting her out of her situation. Finding a job. New digs. Transportation. Even had her over for Thanksgiving one year and a couple of backyard cookouts that following summer.

Soon that single weekly trip turned into two and so on. Her cash flow very tight, I never asked for gas money. Ever. For nearly two years this continued. The more I assisted the more she depended upon that assistance. Point is, she did not help herself and I finally said enough and stopped helping her.

A heart wrenching decision for me. Contrary to my tough outward persona, inwardly I’m a big softy with a genuine love for the common man or woman down of their fortune. Tough love they call it. I am still not sure who it’s tougher on – the person it is aimed at helping or myself.

That’s been five-years ago and we again have lost touch. I think about her, concerned for her welfare; mental and physical, and I talk to God about her from time-to-time. I’ve been assured in my heart-of-hearts that there are times when it is okay to look away, that assistance it meant to be temporary and not permanent.

Still…