Always Emily

Yellow Nail Polish
Excerpt originally published in RAHAB Ministries’ 2021 Impact Report.

When I remember the first day I met her, the memories that come into mind are her vibrant smile, July sunshine, the sound of her giggle, and yellow nail polish.

I was a volunteer at Selah’s Place, RAHAB’s Minor Mentoring program. I was new to Selah’s, and she was one of the first girls I had hung out with. I was always simultaneously nervous and excited to meet new girls, but Leesha, the staff member I’d be with that day, ensured me that this girl was so, so sweet. For her time there that afternoon, she wanted to paint nails, and, more specifically, she wanted to paint my nails.

I told her the color was her pick, and she chose a bright shade of yellow. As she painted my nails, the three of us talked, laughed, and got to know each other. I remember feeling an instant connection, something just drawing us together. After we said goodbye, the staff member texted me to say how well she thought it went. I felt so fulfilled.

Little did I know, six months later I would be employed by RAHAB’s Rebecca’s Place, the minor safehouse, where the same girl I had met at Selah’s was a resident. She greeted me with a huge smile and an even bigger hug. Knowing one of the residents was actually a source of comfort for me. I already had a relationship with one of the girls, and was confident there would be more to come.

It was truly a privilege to watch this individual—and all other residents—grow in the setting of the house. I was able to be a part of their best moments of laughter and fun as well as their deepest moments of healing and hurt.

When the last day of this girl’s stay at Rebecca’s Place came, it was a bag of mixed emotions. I was sad to see her go, but also so happy to see her hard work get her to where she wanted to be: home with her family.

On this last day, she asked me to do something for her: paint her nails. I got out her gold glitter polish as well as a teal color. I started with her toes, and it was somewhat surreal. Almost a year later, I was applying a sparkling gold color to the toes of the girl who had once painted my fingernails yellow. It felt full circle. The act of painting this resident’s toenails felt like a washing of feet, a way to serve her in a way that made her feel beautiful and loved, a way to say goodbye. I continued to paint her fingers teal, with an accent of sparkly gold.

When I finished up, capping the nail polish bottle, I said “You know, the first day I met you, you painted my nails.”

“I know,” she grinned. “Yellow.”

I told her how I almost painted them yellow before my shift but had forgotten, and she urged me to do it right then. Rebecca’s Place happened to have the same shade of yellow that she had used almost a year earlier at Selah’s Place, and we took a picture of our painted nails, a symbol that both opened and closed our physical time in each other’s stories.

When we said goodbye, after we had hugged, she put up her hand against mine, and laced our fingers together. I did all I could not to cry right there, looking at her grinning face for what might be the last time. It was hard to believe that the closeness I felt with this girl all started with painted nails on a hot summer day, and was ending with just the same things.

Yellow nail polish used to mean nothing to me, and now it brings back so many memories. It is now a symbol of hope, love, and healing. It reminds me now of her shining smile, her contagious joy, and the gift of relationship with the girls we serve that God has blessed us with at RAHAB Ministries.