Missions

The so-called "crazy lady" was making people uncomfortable around her at the local church soup kitchen. I spoke some with her and looked in the direction that she was addressing other comments but realized there was no one there, at least no one who was listening or acknowloedging her, or making eye contact with her.  Some people moved away to different more distant tables. Some others stayed where they were and just ignored her. One man beside me was listening intently to what she was saying, trying to make some sense of it all. She was ranting about asking for spare change, and also about working at a job that didn't pay enough to support anyone, and then about her mother's medical problems. The same man beside me tried to interpret for me some of what he thought she was saying. "People are uncomfortable," the man further observed, "but if we're Christians here, we aren't always meant to be comfortable." Earlier a drunken man had been escorted out to a police squad car. The man continued, "People were talking back to him, reacting to him, and that just escalated things. That's when the real trouble started. Otherwise he would have been fine. Without the talking back, there would have been no need for the police.  If we as Christians can't hang in with people like this then who can, tell me?" He was right I had to admit, so right. So I stayed right where I was and removed my flute from its case and assembled it, saying, "Maybe if I play this it will sooth the savage beast in us all." 
(In a certain way she was behaving like a wounded wild animal, probably partly because she had been treated that way.)  Earlier she had responded enthusiastically to the sound of the guitar and to some particular lyrics in a song. She didn't seem to hear the flute though. She was near one of the exits now and putting the finishing touches on her rambling soliloquy before walking outside into the afternoon rain.