“We’re like two big human crutches. There ya go- just keep walking.”
“So, you said she had hip surgery?”
“Yeah. She had hip replacement surgery. Thanks so much for helping. You’re a God-send.”
I saw Brittany when I was pulling into the dorm parking lot. Her friend was trying to stand her up, but she just kept falling over. Her crutches were lying on the ground.
I got out of my car, grabbed my stuff, contemplated what I should do, and heard her friend say, “Hey! Can you help us?”
“Sure, let me put my stuff down. Does she have a key?”
“Yeah, she lives here.”
The stench of her breath alone was enough to tell the story. “I just wanted to be social,” she said.
“Be quiet. And just keep walking,” her friend said.
Funny how God works, isn’t it? He knew I would be pulling in the parking lot at that exact time to see those two girls try to maneuver their way into the dorms- one sober, one wasted.
Brittany’s arm wrapped tightly around my neck. “Thank you so much for helping me. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to be social.”
Brittany wasn’t the only one like that tonight. No- there were others, countless others- who stumbled in parking lots and slurred their words until they could no longer speak. They spent time over toilets and sending texts to strangers. They found five minutes of satisfaction followed by a night of misery. They discovered false happiness when all they were searching for was true joy.
And it breaks my heart.
Brittany’s sentence sums it up perfectly. “I just wanted to be social.”
How many more Brittany’s are there? How many more people just want to interact with others and feel something- anything– that makes them feel?
And, I know Brittany will wake up tomorrow with a major headache and a list of regrets. I’ll pass her on campus in a few days, and she’ll have no idea who I am.
Yet, I feel that I know the deepest part of her- the part that’s screaming for an escape, the part of everyone that says, “There’s gotta be something more.”
Being a crutch is hard because your job is to support, not correct. Therapy and doctors correct the damaged hip. The crutches just aid in the process.
My words wouldn’t heal a drunken girl’s heart. My thoughts wouldn’t even make sense. I have to trust the Doctor- that through “prayer and the supply of the spirit of Jesus Christ,” (Phil. 1:19) Brittany will be delivered.
“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.” Eph. 6:12-13