I just walked past a woman in the stairwell.
She was there 4 hours earlier, when Adele & I arrived at the boys’ apartment. She stood in the corner and said something to us in Mongolian. It sounded like a question. We looked away and ignored her.
We’re foreigners. We can’t talk to you, even if we tried!
It would be frustrating, uncomfortable, and pointless.
So we let ourselves in to the apartment.
We unbundled our layers, put on some rice, and headed for our computers. We had reflections to write, emails to read. I checked facebook, did some dishes. Ate an apple. Put on music. Discussed supper, ate. Steve came home. We relaxed. Had some blissful, blissful down time.
Then it was late, and time to go home. As we bundled up and shuffled out the door I paid that woman a second thought in the day:
Oh. That woman – I hope she’s not still there. Now that would be awkward!
For 4 hours.
Right. Outside. Our Door.
In a Mongolian winter.
And I walked by her. Again.
It was not what Jesus would have done.