Chapter 5: The One Who Called for Prayer

Chapter 5: The One Who Called for Prayer 

She cursed like a sailor and walked around barefoot—even in winter. From the moment I met her, everyone on staff warned me: “Watch out for that one. She’ll bulldoze you if you’re not careful.” And they weren’t wrong. She was tough, demanding, and unapologetically loud. She knew what she wanted and usually found a way to get it. But for reasons I still can’t explain, she let me get close.

I had to set firm boundaries early on—if I didn’t, she would’ve walked right through them. But underneath all the rough edges, there was something else. Something tender. Something watchful. Something… sacred.

I’ll never forget the first time she asked for medical supplies. Her feet were in rough shape—dirty, cracked, bleeding in places. She didn’t wear shoes, ever. When she asked for help bandaging them, I was still so new in my role. I was eager to help, and honestly? I was honored.

I remember kneeling in front of her with a bowl of warm water, cleaning each foot and wrapping them with fresh gauze. I thought of Jesus—how He washed the feet of His disciples. I remember thinking how beautiful it was that I got to do something like that. Back then, I was still bright-eyed, a little naïve. But that moment stayed with me. I didn’t know yet how messy this ministry could get. I just knew I wanted to show up like Jesus did.

And then came the day I really saw her differently.

It was one of those bitterly cold mornings—the kind that slips into your bones before you’ve even had your coffee. The temperature had dropped dangerously low overnight, and by 8 a.m., our tiny lobby was packed. People were crammed into every chair and standing shoulder to shoulder, all hoping to escape the cold just for a while. A single 12-cup coffee pot was trying to keep up with a lobby full of people desperate for warmth. We were handing out every glove, sock, coat, and hat we could find.

There was one man slumped over near the wall—we knew he had taken something, and his body wasn’t handling it well. Another woman sat curled up in a chair, burning with fever, barely able to stay awake. People were cold, hungry, sick, and desperate. Everyone needed something. Voices rose. So did tempers. The need was overwhelming, and so were the emotions in the room. My coworkers and I were doing everything we could, but it wasn’t enough. The chaos was swallowing us whole.

And then—she stood up.

The same woman everyone had warned me about. The one who could intimidate a grown man with one look.

“Everybody be quiet!” she shouted, her voice sharp and commanding. “We are going to stop and pray right now.”

And just like that—the room went still.

I can’t remember if it was me or my coworker who prayed out loud. I just remember the silence. The stillness. The reverence. Even in a room full of addicts, trauma survivors, and people living hour to hour, the Spirit fell like a blanket over all of us.

A few people bowed their heads. Some whispered their own prayers. Others just closed their eyes and breathed a little deeper. And for a brief, holy moment, the whole room remembered that we weren’t alone.

That He was there.

That woman—the one the world saw as a problem, a burden, a bully—she was the one who made space for the Holy Spirit. She didn’t quote Scripture. She didn’t use churchy language. She just knew we needed something bigger than hot coffee and hand warmers. And she invited Him in.

I’ll never forget it.

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Final Takeaways:

• The people we’re warned about are often the ones most sensitive to the Spirit.

• Real ministry happens in the middle of chaos, not outside of it.

• You don’t need a sanctuary to worship. Sometimes the most powerful altar is a lobby full of broken people.

• The Holy Spirit can use anyone, and often, He chooses the ones we least expect.

• When you create space for presence over performance, God shows up. Every time.

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