I’ve been thinking a quite a bit about Calcutta recently as I pray and prepare to go back in the fall. I remember a woman I met, who was around the same age I was, at a church service. She was all smiles as she began to tell her story, but the smile faded into a tear stained face as she recounted the event of her husband dying just six months earlier. She was left alone with their young son whom she lost custody of shortly after. Unlike home, where a woman who endures loss of a hsuband grieves but usually keeps her family together, my new friend lost everything, including her son. As I attempted to understand her pain I was overcome with awe as this woman explained how faithful her Savior had been through her loss. She knew God was Sovereign. As I laid my hands on her shoulders to pray I realized we weren’t so different her and I. She desperately needed Jesus, He really was all she had. I desperately needed Jesus as well but I so easily determined that “desperate” is a tad bit extreme in the comforts of my American dream, and therefore rob myself of experiencing complete reliance on my King and Lord. Her love and belief in the providence of God revealed the lackluster and shoddy faith I had deemed radical. I’m so thankful I met her. She came to me so encouraged as I had just finished speaking at a church service but the heart change was for both of us.