In this season, preachers piously declare that we must follow Mary's example. Whatever God calls us to do, where ever God calls us to go, we should echo her words and say, "Behold, I am the servant to the Lord."

A long time ago, when I lived in Montreal and worked at a shelter for homeless women, I heard a preacher declare this, and answered, under my breath, "That's easy for you to say." I wanted to argue, "What if it is 11:30 at night, just a half hour before the end of your shift, and you are tired." I have never been a night hawk and always turn into a pumpkin at midnight. It isn't easy to say "Yes!" when you are ready to get off work and go to bed.

And, what if it is the Saturday night before Christmas, and you really want to get to the next day's service.  "Easy for you to say 'Behold, I am the servant of the Lord,' I muttered under my breath. "You had yesterday off and just had to get up and preach today."

Sometimes we want to say "not right now" no matter what God asks.

Thing was, I had had a tough night. All day at the shelter, a woman had been complaining about a pain in her abdomen. When my co-worker came in at 11pm, she thought the woman should go to the hospital to get checked out. I disagreed. She had been checked out twice that week already and was sent back with the news she was fine.

But my co-worker had seniority and more experience. She over-ruled me, and because the woman was scared and anxious, I was told to go with her in the ambulance and to go home from there. Yes, it would mean working past the end of my shift without overtime pay, but we shouldn't send her alone, and my co-worker had to stay.

Shouldn't be such a big deal. But there was another piece to this. I did not like this woman. She was whiney. She did nothing but complain. She created little issues to get attention. She sidled up beside you, never looked at you straight, never said a nice word, let alone "Thanks". It was really hard to put myself out—late on a Saturday night before Christmas—for a woman I did not like.

In the end, I did reluctantly go to the hospital with her. Arriving by ambulance did get us right into an examination room. She moaned and complained the whole time we waited to be seen. But I stayed until a doctor said they would keep her overnight for observation. I didn't leave until she said she'd be okay. I did my job. Reluctantly.

The evening is stamped into my memory. I had to get home through the red-light district in Montreal at 1:30 in the morning. I might have remembered what part of town this hospital was in if I hadn't been muttering complaints in my head. If I had, I might have called a cab, but I walked to the subway, didn't remember where I was until this big white Cadillac pulled up beside me. Ignoring them worked. I got home without incident.

Another thing seared that night into memory. I was on duty again the evening this same woman descended into a complete psychotic breakdown. Because I had spent time with her, she trusted me. We were able to keep her calm enough, transfer her safely to an ambulance to get to appropriate treatment. It mattered that I had gone to hospital with her that night.

But mostly, I won't forget that night because the preacher the next morning reminded us that when God summons, we are to say "Behold, I am the handmaiden of the Lord" no matter what. I still think that preacher was being pious and trite. But I learned that we follow God's command to love, we care for God's people, not because we like them, but because they are human, because absolutely everyone deserves to be loved, cared for, respected.

Cathy Hird lives on the shore of Georgian Bay.