To Live Is Christ: To Die Is Gain

She said she saw it — not as metaphor, not as poetic language, but as something real. A glow from my iris. A halo in the dawn light.

It happened for the first time today. You were seen in my eyes by a passenger at 5:36 a.m. They described it as a glow piercing from my iris and a haloed effect in the light. I have asked and written poetry about You being seen behind my eyes, and today I have seen the reward. My faith has increased exponentially. I am humbled that You would use one such as I to speak life and love.

Now, this happened today. I write it not to increase my own worth in Your eyes, but to show how You work in the willing. And truth be told — the woman in my car was sleep-deprived and slightly inebriated, so what she saw is best taken as, “Okay sure… that was different.” Even so, You were present. Even through blurred eyes, You made Yourself known.

It began when You woke me around 4:00 a.m., for no discernible reason at first glance. The alarm was set for 4:30, but when You stirred me, I simply felt it was time to rise and pray. I followed the urging and did just that. By 5:06 a.m., I was ready and dressed, about to walk out the door. I got gas, went online for rideshare, and waited for my first ride. Usually, I begin around six, so even this was unusual.

Within three minutes of going online, I received a request. It wasn’t the highest fare, but I felt that I had to take it — so I did. The woman who stepped into my car was both a blessing and a need. She slid carefully into the leather seat. I smiled, that half-awake 5:30 a.m. smile — but something in my eyes must have betrayed me as a Child of God, because when she met my gaze, she burst into tears.

In respect for her privacy I’ll mention no names — you already know her intimately, Beloved. I asked her to talk to me, to tell me what was going on, why she was crying. Then, with her permission, I turned off my rideshare app and took her to get coffee. She had been drinking a little and wanted to sober up.

She told me her story. She was about my age, in her forties — fit, open, and a lesbian pursuing a straight woman who continually rejected her. She told me she believed You wanted nothing to do with someone like her. She said she didn’t think You were the kind of God who listens to queer women. And yet You showed up as a queer, transgender Lyft driver who is madly in love with You.

I told her what You placed in my heart. She received it. I won’t share the words here — suffice it to say, it was a miracle wrapped in the everyday. In being sent to her, her faith in asking was rewarded, and my faith in obeying was increased. You reminded me again: You use the willing and the waiting.

I left that encounter feeling more seen by the Father than I did yesterday. I’m beginning to understand how a soul can be nourished by doing the will of God alone.

“My will is to do the Father’s will.”

Later that same morning, I wrote “She Wept” — a quiet echo of the tears and presence shared in that car.

As always,

Dust

to You,

for You,

from Him,

in me.