While I was tidying up my purse, I was pleasantly surprised to find a gift certificate I had received a year ago for a manicure. Perfect timing! I had a two-hour window and was feeling a bit worn after appointments, deliveries, and meetings. This wonderful, unexpected break was just what I needed.
The salon was packed, and I took a seat next to a younger lady whose nails were already looking beautiful. I was about to compliment them when she glared at the nail technician working on her manicure and told her what a poor job she was doing. And she didn’t say it nicely. The room was silent after the lady’s outburst, all of us taken aback by her hateful words. She pulled her nails back from the technician and filed them herself, then quickly put them back and demanded the technician finish the job. I watched the technician, who had been working with such precision, hold back tears, her face trembling under a mask. She ignored the angry comment, and put in extra effort to make the lady’s manicure look amazing — it was one of the best I had ever seen. I commented to the lady how beautiful her nails looked, and received a mumbled reply before she stood up, threw some cash on the table, and walked out. No tip, just a slam of the door. Everyone in the room sat in silent amazement.
My heart was in my throat. What a mean lady, I thought, wishing I could run to the nail technician and give her a hug. She never lost her cool and kept her tears from falling. I began asking the Lord what I should do. I was furious at how she had been treated. After my manicure was finished, I walked over to the sweet technician, gave her a hug, and put a tip in her hand.
“This is for the beautiful job you did on that woman’s nails. It was perfection!” She melted into my arms, and finally, the tears fell. It had been a tough day for this woman—a single mom who was working hard to raise her children alone. My heart broke for her.
As I stepped into my car, I prayed for her, but I also felt a nudge from the Lord to pray for someone else. Yes, her. The angry lady. “There are two sides to the story, Lisa,” I could hear the Lord speaking to my heart, but I had a quick response.
“Lord, she was mean! I don’t want to pray for her.”
And again: “Lisa, there are two sides to the story. Pray for her.”
With some reluctance, I prayed for both ladies, and went to grab a cup of coffee before making my next delivery.
I had thirty minutes to sit, reflect and regroup—and I needed it! As I slid into my seat, I said a quick prayer again for both ladies, breathed out an “amen”, and was 
ready to turn my attention to the rest of my day. But God had other plans. I blinked in disbelief as the lady from the nail salon walked in the door. This was no coincidence. Should I do something, Lord? And then, for the third time: “Lisa, there are two sides to every story.” Okay, Lord, I get it. After the lady picked up her coffee and was heading toward the door, I stood up and caught her. I introduced myself and told her I was sitting beside her at the nail salon earlier.
Silence.
“I also want you to know I am praying for you,” I said. “No matter how bad it seems, God sends people in our path to lift us up, and God told me to lift you up.”
After what seemed like long minutes of silence, tears fell down her cheeks, and she sobbed. I led her out to the patio, and the two of us sat down.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, wiping her eyes. A cancer diagnosis, and the recent loss of her mother, then her husband leaving because cancer didn’t fit into his plans. Now she had a young son to raise. I sat in shock.
“Cancer, death, and now divorce,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “Are you kidding me? Where is God?”
She said the nail salon was her last outing before chemotherapy, and she was mad about everything in her life. Raging mad. We talked for thirty minutes, both of us sharing raw and honest feelings. I understood her pain.
I had three breast cancer boxes to deliver, and one was still in my car for the next delivery. I knew it was for her. After carrying it from my car, I took the breast cancer quilt from the box and wrapped it around her.
“You are not alone,” I said. “Every stitch and every tie is a prayer and a person who is with you on this journey.”
We hugged, and before we parted ways, she said, “Thank you for showing me God has not abandoned me. I was ready to give up hope God even existed.”
I walked to my car, knowing that painful feeling of loss, questions, loneliness, and betrayal. As I drove to my next appointment, God and I had a talk. There are truly two sides to every story, because everyone is hurting. And hurting people often hurt people. We don’t always know what another person is going through, but we all face something. Initially, I believed the woman in the nail salon was mean, but it turned out she was grieving. I judged her, but God showed me her pain. There are two sides to every person, and every hurt.
That day changed my view on those I judge as mean. We all know those people, but we need to remember that something has caused them to carry around their pain. Maybe instead of judging them, we pray for them. It’s not always easy, but when we do, we are changed. And sometimes, it also changes the other person.
That lesson is more deeply embedded in my heart than ever before. Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you can’t see. Your kindness and prayers may be the bridge that guides them to the other side of the battle.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18