God taught me a lesson today

Today, God gave me a lesson I didn’t even realize I needed.

I was driving back to the office from Target, windows down, letting the breeze cut through the stillness of my thoughts. The weather was perfect—the kind that makes you pause and actually notice life for a moment. As I slowed down, easing into the parking lot, a young woman called out, “Excuse me...”

Here we go, I thought. Another panhandler. I’ve been through this before: the awkward exchange, the inevitable “I don’t have any cash on me” because—truthfully—I don’t. I make it a point not to carry cash, always prepared with a reason not to give.

But this time, I stopped. She asked if I was parking there, and when I said yes, she surprised me. “Could I wash your windows for some money?” she asked. She held up a knapsack with cleaner and paper towels. She wasn’t asking for a handout; she was asking to work.

I looked at her. There was something in her eyes—something strong, something proud. She didn’t seem like someone used to being in a place like this, but here she was, humble enough to do what she needed to survive. She wasn’t beneath asking for money, but she wasn’t about to take it for free. And in her, I saw a reflection of myself.

I’ve been in places I never expected to be financially. I’ve worked jobs I never imagined I’d have to, sometimes juggling two at once just to keep the bills paid. Like her, I’ve felt the weight of needing to provide, of wondering if I was doing enough for my kids, of holding onto pride even when life stripped it bare.

And yet, I’ve complained. I’ve grumbled about my cramped living space, my car payments, my laundry piling up for trips to the complex laundromat. I’ve been annoyed by the broken TV that barely gets three channels and an air conditioner that can’t decide if it wants to freeze me or melt me. My loneliness in Vegas has been a constant hum in the background, amplified by the lack of time or energy to make new friends.

But this woman—this stranger washing windows to survive—made me see everything differently. She told me she lived under the tunnel down the road. I knew the place. Homeless people gather there, finding shelter where they can. She laughed about her worn-out shirt that barely covered her and said she needed food. Skinny but not frail, she looked like someone who spent her last pennies on survival, not indulgence.

My automatic response was ready: “I don’t carry cash.” But then I remembered something odd—something out of the ordinary. At Target, I’d asked for cash back. I rarely do that, but for some reason, I had that day. A few dollar bills sat tucked in my wallet, intended for the vending machine at the office.

“Wait,” I said, stopping myself mid-sentence. “I actually do have some money.” I gave her half of it, even though I’d skipped buying things for myself at Target to save money. As she began working on my windows, I handed her a bottle of water from my purse. She thanked me for the opportunity, her gratitude as genuine as her pride.

I walked towards the building, the weight of the moment settling over me. Fast-forward images flashed through my mind: my home, my car, my closet full of clothes, my cabinets stocked with food. My kids, who smother me with hugs and “I love you, Mom” notes taped to the walls. My job waiting for me inside, my friends cheering me on from afar, the simple luxuries I take for granted every single day.

And then there were the gifts I’d received just this past week: $20 from a friend, a $50 Chili’s gift card from a cousin, a handwritten letter full of encouragement and love. By the time I reached the door, I was ready to give her the shirt off my back—literally. I had a sweatshirt on over it and wouldn’t have thought twice about taking it off. But when I turned around, she was gone. My windows sparkled, and so did the realization settling into my heart.

I looked up at the sky and whispered, “Thank you. I got it. I really got it.” 

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By the way, this picture I found reminded me of her. The determined look and strength in her eyes. But, this picture is of Tyra Banks posing as a homeless person.