She seemed lost and out of place. It’s kind of chilly for just a t-shirt, I thought. As the light turned green for me I tried to watch her further, but an eighteen-wheeler blocked the view.

Later I traveled down the same highway going the opposite direction. She was still there.

Pulling into the convenience facility for my daily shot of cappuccino, I got my brown liquid slug of sugar, paid, and returned to the car. I looked in the direction I’d last seen her. She was still there. I pulled the car over to the side of the parking area and got out. I crossed on foot the entry road she’d been wandering earlier. “Hello,” I called, “do you need some help?”

She walked / stumbled toward me. When she stepped out of the grass her bare feet came into view. The left big toe trailed small blood droplets from a severe abrasion.

“Do you need any help?” I asked again.

“Doesn’t everybody?” she asked.

I peered into her clouded eyes, blue but dull. Strung-out would be an understatement. “What happened? How come you’re out here like this?”

“Those idiots went off and left me. They took everything I had and left me sleeping in the parking lot over there. Did you see them?”

I said I hadn’t.

“Can you take me to Knoxville?”

“No, I can’t do that, but I can probably get you some help.”

“I don’t want any help. I want to get to Knoxville. Why don’t you take me?” she leaned forward, almost whispering. I smelled it. Meth. She was high on Meth!

“Look, let me see if I can get you some help. Let’s go over here and see if we can find you warmer clothes.” I pointed to the store I’d just come out of.

“Leave me alone,” she said. “All I want to do is get to Knoxville. I can get what I need there. Which way is Knoxville?”

“Sit down here a minute,” I suggested, taking her arm and directing her to the curb. “Let me go inside and see if I can find out how to get to Knoxville.”

I sat her down. I gave her my cappuccino. “Here, drink this while I go get directions.

I headed inside to call for some help. I knew some drug rehabilitation folks. Entering the store I called out, “Martha, can I use your phone?”

“I don’t think you need it now,” she responded, pointing out the window to the orphan I’d left on the curb. The local police had stopped. She was pushed against the trunk of their car and was being cuffed. I started out the door. By the time I got halfway across the parking lot they’d shoved her into the back of the car and were pulling away.

Returning to the store, I got another cup and filled it up. At the register Martha said,

“That one’s on the house, pastor.”

“Thanks,” I responded.

The door was pushed half way open when Martha called, “Pastor!”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t save them all.”

“No, I can’t, but we can try to love them all, can’t we?”

“You can,” she said. “And if it perks you up any, I’m really trying to.”

“Thanks, Martha.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll pray for your little friend, okay?”

I wonder what happened to that lost sheep. Will she ever make it to Knoxville? Or anywhere?