Imprints

There are some days where I just long for something beautiful. And on those days, I go and seek it out myself. I find it when I go and sit on my roof and write in my purple notebook. I find it when I listen to my coffeehouse playlist and drink something hot. I find it when my little brother falls asleep on the floor and I carry him to his bed. I find it. Even if nothing is there, I'll find it.

But today, I was handed something beautiful.

A longtime friend I'll call Ms. Sue was at Chick-Fil-A for several hours, eating her salad and meticulously highlighting lines in her Bible. She asked me how she could pray for me. It caught me off-guard. I shared a little bit about my life as of late. The pretty things, the hard things, the weird things and the bland things. She listened and then she stood up and put her arms around me.

"I didn't know anything about your life lately. Somehow, I needed that. Now let me share my testimony with you, and I hope you find...well, hope...in it."

She's had an eating disorder for 40 years. She weighs 80 pounds. Her hair is thin and her face is gaunt. Her clothes hang off of her body and her toothy grin is lovably weak. I've known about her eating disorder. But I didn't know the details.

"But Emily, you know what? I realized on December 31st, the last day of 2013, that this is a sin. Because anything that cheapens you and distracts your focus on God is a sin. And I found that I am worth more than this; than these enemy lies. And so I'm going to fight."

"Remember the paralytic beside the Pool of Betheseda? He was lame for 38 years, and Jesus asked him if he wanted to be well. Then He told him to get up and walk. So that's what I'm going to do too."

"Pray for me, because every day is a fight."

And even when I have to go looking for it, moments like that remind me of imprints. A tiny fingerprint of God. An imprint of beauty and an imprint of hope.

Savor the imprints.

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