A Safe Place to Rest

When I was in elementary school, I met a girl who I will call Abigail (to protect her identity).  Abigail was a year older than me.  She and I had younger sisters who were the same age.  The two of them were often teased and taunted.  You could see the hurt written all over their faces.  I felt sorry for them, but I didn’t stick up for them.  I knew if I did that it would place another target on my back.  I had enough targets on my back.  I was a church girl.  I was black but I spoke and acted white (at least that’s what the other black kids said about me).  I had white friends who did not care about my race, but I knew I was black, so I never felt like I was truly one of them.  I was an outsider among the blacks and an outsider among the whites.  All I wanted was a place that I could fit in and not be so different.  Even though I felt sorry for Abigail, I could not risk a bigger target being placed on my back. 

Abigail and I rode the same school bus.  When she and her sister would get on, other riders would move away from the aisle to avoid being accidentally brushed up against.  I am ashamed to say that a few times I followed suit.  One afternoon our bus was unusually full.  We had to carry home extra students because their bus had broken down in the school parking lot.  Most seats had two or three occupants but about four of us had a seat to ourselves.  She usually sat with her sister, but her sister was not on the bus that day. I usually sat with my sister, but she was sitting with a school friend that day. Abigail arrived at the bus late and there were no empty seats left.  Those who were sitting alone began putting their legs across the seat to let her know that she was not welcome to sit with them.  I was afraid of letting her sit with me because of the target already on my back.  I just knew it would make things worst for me.  I felt sorry for her and I decided to do the right thing.  I moved over and let her sit down.  You could tell that she was relieved.  She smiled and whispered a thank you.  I just smiled.  We sat in silence for a few minutes and then I sparked a conversation.  That afternoon, I made a friend.  I decided from that day forward to be a friend to those who others rejected.  She sat with me a quite a few times after that.  I did receive some nasty comments because I befriended her, but I stopped caring.  Eventually the comments stopped, and others began talking to her.

By offering her a seat, I offered her a place to rest her body.  It was also a place to rest her anxiety.  In return I had the pleasure of getting to know a great person.  If I had extended my leg just as everyone else was, I would have missed out on that blessing.  I am sure that God would have moved on someone else’s heart but that would have resulted in my loss.

In this situation I was the one to offer a place of rest, but in some moments of my life I have been Abigail.  I was the one needing a safe spot to rest.  I was the one on the verge of tears because no place seemed safe.  Everywhere I turned there was a leg being thrown across the seat.  Just as the tears were about to fall, someone offered me a safe place to rest from my anxieties. 

There are countless Abigails in the world looking for a safe place to rest. 
Everyday they are mistreated, misunderstood and treated unjustly.  Will you be there safe place to rest?