I have called you by name

Your pain has changed me
Your dreams inspire
Your face, a memory
Your hope, a fire
Your courage asks me,"what I am afraid of?"
Your courage asks me, "what am I made of?"
And what I know of God.
Sara Groves

She passed by with a plastic bag in shape of a bottle. We were on the corner of a street, huddled together, praying for the night and for our friends on the street. She could have passed by, but she stopped. I wasn't sure what was being said between my friend and the lady. She had obviously been drinking, but was very affectionate. She shared that she too, had been a part of church, and now was pregnant. She patted her stomach, looking sad. My friend asked if we could pray for her. She agreed and went to the middle of our circle. She started praying, asking God to forgive her for her sins, and for mercy in her life. When she was done, my friends started to pray for her. I had my hand on her shoulder and she grabbed it, holding my hand, kissing it, crying. She crouched down, as the alcohol started to take effect on her, and some of us crouched down with her. I felt a deep, profound love for this stranger, but at the same time I just kept hoping a miracle with happen. That in that moment, whatever hurt or disapppointment she was feeling, would fade away.  After we were done praying, one of the leaders, gently told her that she shouldn't be drinking because of her baby. She gave excuses, obivously embarassed. We asked for her name.

I haven't forgotten her name.