I had known her for two brief days.
The sun had set. We were walking back towards camp from the wilds.
She said, "Hold my hand, I'm afraid of the dark."
I took her hand.
She asked, "Are you afraid of anything?"
I replied with honesty, "I'm afraid of things like failure."
She understood, "I'm afraid of not being enough."
We talked about life, sharing a torch, holding hands the whole way back.
After some thought and prayer, I took her aside on our last day together. I told her how I was given a key at the beginning of my missions trip. Chiseled on it was a word I had wanted to grow in, vulnerability. I told her I had worn that key for four months. That it was a part of me. A reminder of my promise to pursue grace for myself. That I can let people see me and I'd be enough for them. It was hard to let go of my key. I was still working through all the nuances of what it means to be vulnerable. But God had placed her in my life. I needed her to understand and grow in the truth that she is more than enough. She had broken parts, but she wasn't a broken person. Grace had room in her life.
I handed her the key because I've learned to unlock the door. I am still learning and experiencing what is on the other side of that door. But I pray for the moment she finds someone to hand the key to because she's joined me on the other side.