walks lonely roads with me.
and, sir,
He and i are out to change the world.
and, sir,
He can change your world.”
the tears began flowing
down that young gi’s face.
and he looked at me.
“i never knew a God like you have
how do you find Him?”
and i opened my purse
and pulled a card out
and wrote a prayer on it.
not a special prayer,
a prayer off my head,
i just wrote it on a card
and handed it to him.
“sir, if you’ll pray this prayer
and mean it,
Jesus will become your friend
and Lord of your life.”
and that’s all that was said the entire flight
and i had taken a nap
and the plane was on its descent.
suddenly, he leaned over to me and said,
“ann, excuse me,
i know you’re tired and everything
but i wanted to tell you something.
i wanted to thank you.
i prayed that prayer
and i don’t feel alone anymore.
and ann, i think God and i—
we can make it.”
and i reached out and took his hand.
“sir, you and God,
you can make it.
anywhere and through anything.
remember this:
God and i,
we’re walking with you.”
and i deboarded that plane
and there were thousands of people in the airport
but i really believed,
that i had the most important mission
of any of the people hurrying about me
because i had changed my world
in just a little way.
i’d reminded a broken, lonely gi
that Jesus lived and loved
and would walk with him.
lonely eyes.
i see them in the subway.
i do—we have subways in boston you know.
people burdened by the troubles of the day.
men on leisure
but they are so unhappy,
tired of foolish games they try to play
lonely voices fill my dreams.
do they yours, sir?
your voice sounds lonely, your face looks empty.
sir, take my hand. i’ll walk with you.
i’ll be your friend.
ordinary days
something beautiful
something good
all my confusion, He understood
all i had to offer Him,
was brokenness and strife
but He’s making something beautiful
out of my life.
sometimes people say,
“ann, i want to speak like you.
i want to do like you.
i want to be a dean of women at a college
what do i do to be like you?”
and i look back over my life
and i remember being that little girl
with my father on long walks
and him saying to me,
“remember just this...
it pays.
it pays to serve Jesus.”
i grew up in hawaii
don’t tell me what prejudice is.
i know.
i was one light face in the middle
of several thousand dark faces on my campus.
i cannot remember one night in my junior high years
that i did not cry myself to sleep
and wonder why my face couldn’t be dark, too.
i wondered why hindus and buddhists
had to laugh at my God.
i wondered why friends laughed behind my back
because i was a foreigner.
and all through my junior high years,
