In the summer of 2004, after 25 years of playing Army, our family arrived at Fort Lewis, knowing it would be our final assignment. It was time to retire and put down roots. One of our most important decisions was choosing a local church. For years, we had attended military chapels, but we wanted to become part of a local congregation.

It was an easy choice, and after a few visits, Lake City Community Church (LC3) felt like home—an eclectic mix of people; rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. You get the picture. Eventually, our middle daughter joined the youth group, and we, like many parents, watched from the sidelines to see which group she gravitated toward. We wanted her to make the “right” friends.

Yes, we were THOSE parents.

A few weeks later a girl from youth group began showing up at our door. She often arrived unannounced, sometimes when Margo was asleep or away for the evening. She waited on our porch for hours. Occasionally, we let her in, but more often, we sent her away. We worried she wasn’t “the right kind of friend” for our daughter.

Then one day she stopped coming. We saw her less and less at church, and when we did, she kept her distance. I asked some of the other parents about her. Their response shattered me.

“I’m not surprised she was coming to your house. She was trying to escape. Her dad, her brother, and the other men who hang out at her house. When she hears a door open at night, she doesn’t know if they’re leaving or coming for her.”

She was barely twelve. The men in her life who were there to protect her abused her, and in doing so destroyed her.

Mary and I wept that night. We made our own list of regrets—if only, if only, if only. If only we had invited her in more often. If only we had recognized it was God who brought her to our door. If only we had prayed with her. Made her dinner. But we didn’t. We turned her away. And in doing so, we turned away an opportunity to speak a hope into her life.

I don’t know what became of her. But I learned a valuable lesson: God will bring people to your doorstep—people desperate for love, hope or just a kind word. Some will come from broken homes, others from wealth. Need isn’t measured in dollars, and grace is free.

God expects us to protect those we love. But don’t let caution lead you to rejection. Open your door. Open your heart. Pour into the lives of those who are brave enough to knock. And when you think you’ve done enough, love them just a little bit more.