Even Strays Belong Somewhere

They always said she had a thing for strays.

Not cats. Not dogs.

People.

Unstable, unhealed, unavailable people.

She didn’t just let them into her life

She made room in her spirit for them.

Carved out safety where they brought chaos.

Called it love.

Called it ministry.

Called it compassion.

Her mother used to warn her with a smirk,

“You take in strays like it’s your job.”

She laughed then but now?

Now she’s the stray.

Heart threadbare.

Faith bruised but intact.

Bank account gasping.

Spiritual shoulders heavy from carrying people God never asked her to lift.

She had been a savior with a bleeding back

Until she met the actual Savior.

Because the only One who truly took her in was Jesus.

No conditions. No draining. No drama.

He didn’t need fixing.

He was the fix.

She found herself wrapped in grace, not responsibility.

Held, not hired.

Now when strays come to her door,

She doesn’t let them set up camp in her soul.

She doesn’t audition for the role of healer anymore.

She simply points to the porch light that found her in the dark.

“I can’t fix you,” she says now, calm and sure.

“But I know a Man who took in this stray.

And trust me, He doesn’t just clean you up.

He calls you His.”

Because now she knows:

Even strays belong somewhere.

Especially strays.

And she’s not lost anymore.