This week I blogged over at A Virtuous Woman.
Trusting Your Instincts
Years ago, when I was in college, I interned on Capitol Hill in Washington D.C. The basement apartment where I lived was just a few blocks from work—an easy walk though it wasn’t a safe neighborhood. Lots of burglaries and break-ins, even in broad daylight.
One day I noticed a homeless woman on the street corner. I smiled at her and she smiled back. The next day, we chatted. The day after that, late in the afternoon on my way home from work, I invited her in for a cup of tea.
Now, this wasn’t something I normally did. Ever. Not before and not since. I’m still not even sure why I invited her into the apartment. Something just seemed right about it. Gut instinct, perhaps?
Minutes after setting the teapot on the stovetop to boil, we heard a crash at the front door. Then another. Someone was trying to kick the door in. The homeless woman bolted from her chair and shouted at the man to stop—but he didn’t hear her. He kept kicking at the panels of the door. One panel started to crack. I was no help—I just stood by the window, watching something terrible unfold, frozen with fear.