"There it is!" squealed an elderly woman excitedly as she pointed a gnarled finger toward the house. "I knew we would find it!" she said to her bewildered friend who grumbled her disapproval.

"This is ridiculous,” her friend said. “No one could live in that dilapidated house. You must be crazy!” she declared as she tugged the resisting arm of the elderly woman. “Anyone living in there would surely freeze to death. Let's go!”

“Just a few more minutes...please!”

“Why?”

“Patience, my friend,” the elder replied, but her friend could not wait with patience as she shivered in the cold. She wrapped her coat tightly around herself and sighed a very loud but ignored sigh.

"Wait a minute...did you see that?" The elderly woman squinted as she stared at an upstairs window. Her very unhappy friend pretended not to hear her as she inched away, but the elder prevented her escape by grabbing her arm. Then she pointed toward the second floor. “I think I saw her in that window...a little girl!"

“Really?” her young friend suddenly showed a fascination with the same upstairs window and searched for any sign of life, but saw none.

“Maybe you saw a curtain flapping in the wind. You know June, you do have quite an active imagination. Let's go!” She stomped her feet once more. “I hope you are happy. My feet are now numb!"

June suddenly stared at her friend with disbelief. “How can you be so insensitive? If she is in there she might need our help! We’ve got to at least try.” With that, June left her friend in the street and marched up to the front door of the old house where she saw a large, rusty doorknocker. She banged it loudly.

“Hello...anyone home?” she hollered, then waited for a reply. She tried again...and again....and again all with no response. Finally, after a few more shivering moments of silence she heeded her friend’s request and slowly turned her back on the house.

"I guess you were right all the time,” June admitted as she gazed at the empty upstairs window one last time. “I'm really sorry I brought you here. I just thought I..."

“You what?”

“Oh...never mind. Let's go," she sighed as she slowly walked past the house and down the street until they could no longer be seen.

Once they were out of sight, a dirty frail hand carefully lowered the edge of the curtain of the upstairs window. She quickly wiped away a tear that smudged her cheek. Then she sniffed once as she tossed her head defiantly up in the air, pretending to be strong. "Who invited them here, anyway?" she whispered to herself as she brushed her uncombed hair away from her eyes. Then her tiny fingers groped the cracked plaster of the walls that lined her home. She expertly maneuvered down the creaking floors of the dark hallways and downstairs into the cold, black silence.

Her soft brown eyes were beautiful, but very sad and empty, reflecting the years of neglect and sorrow she had known so well. Occasionally those eyes would shed a tear or two, but rarely more than that. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to weep because it hurt too much. She learned that pushing the unpleasant feelings down into some hidden corner of her heart was easier, or at least she thought so.

But today was different. The curious woman pounding at her front door reminded her of her extreme pain and loneliness. She paused by the front door and slid her hand along the door frame before slumping to the floor in a heap. She then cradled her head in her thin arms and wept bitterly for a long time, but this only caused her to feel more and more isolated. Finally desperation engulfed her.

When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then You knew my path ...No one cares for my soul. I cried out to You, 0, Lord. I said, "You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living. Attend to my cry, for I am brought very low…

Psalm 142:3-6, NKJV

For a brief moment she thought about reaching out to God as she wept, but then refused the thought and shook her head. “No. God is too busy to worry about someone like me. But who else can I turn to?” She looked up to the sky as if God were far away and whispered, “God, if You can hear me...or if You even care... please, help me!”

But I am afflicted and in pain ...For the LORD hears the needy and does not despise His who are prisoners.

Psalm 69:29, 33, NASB

She wiped away another tear and wondered if God had heard her. After a bit, she decided that He probably did not, and slowly picked herself up from the dusty floor. She shook the dirt from her dingy, gray dress and turned around to go back down the hallway. Suddenly, there was another knock at the door, but this time it was soft and gentle. "I can't believe they're back! Go away!" she angrily whispered to herself.

Three more knocks.

She tiptoed to the front window and stared outside through the peep-hole. "Now, who could this be?" she asked herself as she stared at the figure of a man standing outside her door. She could not see His face, but she could see what He was wearing; it was a long white robe. “How odd,” she thought.

Three more knocks.

“Why doesn’t He go away?” she whispered.

He knocked again.

Perhaps it was her loneliness that caused her to not ignore His knocking as she paused in front of the door.

He knocked again.

Terrified, she cracked the door open, ever so slightly. “What do you want?" she whispered in a barely audible voice.

“I've come to be your friend,” came the answer.