Rosa

She is a woman people have stopped expecting anything from, but whatever they want to take. She is a woman who has been around the block--and worn deep ruts from her passing. She is a woman who has learned brokenness on a cellular level.

Her face shows signs of abuse, internal and external, though perhaps-we hope- passed. She is small in nearly every way. Not threatening. Unassuming. Just, there.

And I do not believe I have ever met someone so overwhelmingly beautiful.

I have met her three times now as I volunteer, and this most recent time will be the last. She is leaving the program. She is recovered enough to move south to her two little girls and her family and hopefully to success. The way she talks about the future is breathtaking... the way it can only be coming from someone who has lost hope for a future and life and living... and then one day refused to accept that.

I wish I knew more of her story. There are a few telltale signs on which to build some generalizations. ...but I want to hear her tell it. Because her joy and her honesty are contagious, infectious, and so many other things. I do not know why. Or maybe I do. I think I feel hope rising and being fueled. I think my eyes are being lifted up past the pain and brokenness and curse of this world. I think weight is being given to the promise that the way things are is wrong, but it wont stay this way. Sometimes, after a good long fight, people come out stronger, better, triumphant. (I don't think she knows it yet.)

See I can be an idealist. Just not on a macro scale. Call me a micro-idealist. People. Individuals. Little steps on otherwise unimportant days.

I wanted to hug her and tell her she was strong. That she was beautiful. I wanted to invent new words so that she knew the worth and the value I wanted her to feel attached to what I wanted to say. But I'm just that quiet stranger being trained to do maintenance in the home that she is leaving. She does not know how much my prayers race my heart beat. I am so excited for her.