I was daydreaming on my way home from work when a woman caught my eye.

She was hard to miss.

A heavyset woman with red hair.

Bubblegum pink straps sank into her shoulders.

Her tank top hugged her torso.

The bottom of her shirt was folded up, causing piles of flesh to peek through; it looked like she’d dressed in a hurry.

She sat down next to a woman she knew, a blonde with skintight jeans covering a pair of crossed legs.

The blonde woman wore an incomplete ponytail. She had on a thin T-shirt that was cut in pieces and knotted in the center of her back, exposing a black bra.

As they chatted, I watched, hypnotized by their clothing and their complete comfort with it.

My mind struggled to make a connection.

What is going on with them?

I needed to label the situation and the people in it. 

And then the word flashed across my mind.


I sank back in my seat, satisfied.

But as soon as I did, Jesus immediately sat me back up.

How dare you assume?

You have no grounds to judge.

And even if they are, that is not their label.

They are Mine and they are loved.

I pondered my chastisement all the way home.

So many lessons from this little chunk of life.

The biggest one?

Leave people unlabeled.

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