The light was red, but her name was not Roxanne.
(At least I don't think so.)
Picture a grey, cool autumn morning; the morning rush hour; nameless faces taking the same routes; not sad, not happy; just routine.
Two friends, who travel the same route each day find themselves waiting at a crossing. And then the tears come...
Didn't see it coming? Me either.
One friend holds the other as the cold day is checked by the warm tears.
I have no idea what was going on, no idea why, but there, at 8:43, was a clear picture of what Jesus taught us to do.
Talk about pouring out compassion when it was needed, wherever it was needed AND at a time when it could so easily have been missed.