Before lunch at noon everyday our community gathers in a circle joined by hands. Old hands shaking in the clasp of young. White, yellow, brown hands mixed together all praying to our one God in thanksgiving, mostly for waking up in our “right” minds.
Today, a gaggle of transgendered ladies all bearing 5-o’clock shadows, joined our circle and lept into prayer, with what I thought was going to be shallow penance and a show of religious words. However, as one of the women-sirs prayed earnestly to Jesus, the Holy Spirit laid a finger on my chest – almost as if to hush my spiritual chatter so that He could listen more clearly. So, I listened too, and as Cici began to pour out her honest feelings, I began to weep. In front of complete strangers, she thanked Jesus for confronting her ‘twisted ways’ with not simply a soup kitchen, but with a community where she could enter into His presence. She confessed her waywardness and longing for Jesus. The Holy Spirit reminded me that He came for the least of the least; the transgenders are scorned even by the homeless community. Thus, Cici’s prayers are infinitely precious to Him. I know that Emmanuel, with great compassion, stares lovingly into Cici’s eyes and calls her by name, hearing her cry and longing for her return.
It is a confusing matter to sort out, however, after prayer, when the women are honored and allowed to the front of the lunch line. Cici skipped to the beginning of the line with a huge grin, while a whole bunch of men were left in her dust shaking their heads.
laurenrogers 