I sat at the table in the women's shelter, feeling as if my mouth was made of cotton. The single mom sitting in front of me looked up and smiled every once in a while during my awkward silences, but clearly I was supposed to keep the conversation going. Not that I blamed her. Her four kids under the age of ten kept her fairly well occupied.

I was here for my Missional Living class. The assignment was simple: evangelize. However, every woman I'd talked to so far had come to a saving belief in Jesus, quite evidently. So while I'd had some fairly good conversations, no evangelizing had been done. I was currently failing my assignment, and the woman in front of me was my last hope. And, a feeling in the back of my head told me I could be hers.

So I probed. I awkwardly asked questions about her life, the ages of her kids, how they'd come to be at the shelter, and where she'd grown up. I found out that she'd been raised going to a Catholic church. She still took her kids, but they only got there once every few months.

I didn't get the feeling she minded my presence there. But I could also tell that she had no interest in conversation. My grade was still slipping down the tubes, however, so I gathered my courage and asked.

"What do you think happens when you die?"

Looking a bit taken aback, she answered, "Well, I believe everyone goes to heaven."

"How did you come to believe this?"

"I don't know. I just believe God will forgive us, I guess." She laughed a little.

I sighed, and my next question came tumbling out of me like a landslide.

"Has anyone ever explained the Gospel to you?"

At least, that's what I intended to say. I'm pretty sure it sounded more like "Hazzanyoneertakenachancetoplainaspeltoyou?"

She tilted her head to the side and frowned. "What's that?"

My heart skipped a beat. Here was my golden opportunity! I'd known there were people who'd never even heard of the Gospel, but I'd never personally met one! I opened my mouth, fully preparing to tell her the foundation of what I believed, and...

I froze.

Part of me wishes I could tell you what stammering, fumbling words came out of my mouth, but the other part is glad I've blocked it from my memory. I'm sure I sounded just as stupid as I felt.

Forget everything you've heard about, "If you really know what you believe, you should be able to tell other people." I can personally state that it is not true.

She'd lost interest by the time I finished. Desperate to display the love of Jesus in any way, I asked, "Is there anything I can be praying for you guys about?"

She shook her head. "No, I think we're okay."

I walked out of the shelter that day feeling like the biggest failure in the world. This soul had been right there, the opportunity within my grasp. And yet I had failed to carry out the basic command Jesus gave us: "Go into the world and make disciples." What if no one else ever crossed her path who would share the Gospel with her? What then?

My "one who got away" is not some romance story gone wrong. It's the woman whose soul I let slip through my fingers. I pray I'm not the only Christian to cross her path.