Two months ago today. Sitting in the parking lot, I watched for Sandra to exit the front door. She had been waiting for this day for years, and I was the fortunate one who would get to pick her up and take her to the airport for the long-awaited reunion with her family. She had been far away, in a place where schedule and the rules of others reign supreme, where freedom and personal privacy were non-existent. But all of that was going to be behind her as soon as she walked through that door. The sweet smell of freedom and promise would greet her, and I was going to witness it.

I saw the brown curls on top of her head before I saw the rest of her. Then she emerged, a smile as big as Dallas on her face and a huge invisible burden lifted from her shoulders. She raised both arms in the air – “Freedom!!!” We greeted each other warmly, loaded her bags into the trunk and got into the car. “How about some breakfast?” I asked. “Sounds great,” she replied. “I can’t believe I’m finally going home. Can’t wait to see my mom and family.”

She and I met over a decade ago. We were both working a prison ministry weekend and there was an instant connect. Two sisters in Christ, assigned together to serve the Lord, in an unlikely place where He sparked a bond that wouldn’t stop growing. We weren’t able to see each other much in the years following that weekend but we kept in touch by letter. Old fashioned snail mail. It was wonderful, such a great way to get to know someone through their own words and handwriting. We shared struggles, prayer requests, talked about each other’s families, learned about each other’s spiritual growth and insights. A friendship that grew over the years and was cemented during her brief stay in my town.

During her stay we got to visit in person often, between her classes and work. I was blessed to be a blessing to her, had the joy of knowing I was making a difference in her life, helping her transition to the next phase of her faith journey. Little things like buying lunch and providing transportation until she could get back home to her family and a new job, both waiting impatiently to welcome her home.

And now the day was here. Over breakfast we talked about what her homecoming would be like, and how different it would be for me now that she was no longer a 15 minute drive away. And once again we marveled at how God brought us together, brought her briefly, unexpectedly, to the city where I live and interwove our paths tightly with bonds of faith that will never be broken.

We had time for a short shopping trip and rest stop at my house before I drove her to the airport. Parking the car I walked her in, wished her well in her new venture, and promised to stay in touch. Quietly I watched her go through security, waving goodbye to her as she moved through the line of travelers. Her tall, confident but nervous-cited figure revealed the weightlessness of freedom as she walked away. I turned to leave, inhaling one last deep breath of freedom’s holy moment.