The Black Sheep & the Laptop Girl
On small talk in big cities, unlikely friendships, and God's heart for the lost.
Welcome to Letters From Heidi, a refuge for truth seekers, deep-feelers, and the homesick searching for Eternity.
I am Heidi, an Asian-Australian Christian woman who writes at the intersection of life, faith, and culture. Letters from Heidi explores topics such as identity, relationships, shame, womanhood, and healing from personal and family trauma. Subscribe to receive my monthly articles or follow me on Instagram for weekly content and previews from my debut book, Unmasking the Prodigal Daughter.
Dear readers,
In my March letter, I am pleased to share a true story of a decade-long friendship and sisterhood that I hold close to my heart.
It is a story of how God once challenged my apathy for the lost in my city. It is a testimony of God’s power and goodness despite my fears and presumptions. It is an example of the value of small talk and sincerity, in a world starved of authenticity and hope.
I pray this letter inspires and encourages you. If you have a similar story, I would LOVE to hear it! Please reply to this email or share in the comments below.
The Black Sheep & the Laptop Girl
I met her at my local café.
She was loud, assertive, and wore oversized glasses framing a self-assured disposition.
I saw her everyday—and she saw me—typing furiously behind a laptop with a supersized mug of caffeine. All of her customers had a nickname. Mine was “Laptop Girl”.
Her cafe was my go-to. The coffee was strong and the vibe conducive to productivity. For months I visited the same spot to hit personal goals and deadlines. Hiding behind my screen and earphones, it really was no surprise that I was known for nothing more than the girl with the laptop.
I had recently uprooted my life and moved to a new city with my husband. Powered by youthful optimism, we started a church with the hopes to share God’s love in the city of Brisbane. However, as a time-poor working adult without established social networks, I found it “impossible” to meet new people. Of course, this was untrue. I only had to look up from my laptop to see that I was surrounded by the lost. I just had to care enough to say hello.
Convicted by my apathy, I began asking God for courage and committed myself to praying for a stranger. One afternoon, while ordering “the usual”, I asked for her name. She responded carefully, brows furrowed, as though she was suspicious of my intentions. The first “hello” was awkward, but I couldn’t shake off the conviction to persevere.
From then on, I began to welcome small-talk into my daily schedule. She would sit with me on her lunch breaks, and our casual chats soon evolved into deeper conversations about life and faith.
She was surprised to learn that I was a pastor’s wife, meaning I was one of those serious Christians. I was surprised to learn of our age gap. Ten years my junior, she seemed too driven, jaded, and sceptical. I quietly suspected that like me, she was once a daughter forced to grow up too fast; whose young eyes once saw too much.
One evening, we decided to grab dinner after her shift. This was our first meal beyond the café. After several mouthfuls of Korean food, she suddenly asked how I had become a Christian. Her question and curiosity took me by surprise. God had opened the door for me to share my heart and faith, and yet I was crumbling into a nervous mess, not knowing where to start. Besides, we hadn’t known each other for too long, so which version of my story should I share? The full or filtered version? Lord help me.
Swallowing my nerves with extra spoons of rice, I surrendered to God’s leading and began to share my story. I divulged hidden wounds that had found healing from the Father. I confessed my heart’s temptation to hide behind masks and walls, and how being known and loved by God had freed me to wear it on my sleeve.
As she learned of the scars that I hid behind a smile, I noticed that her guarded demeanour began to relax. Laying down her shield, she confessed how alcohol, gambling and infidelity had once torn her childhood and family apart. Raised by a single mother, she was a teenager waiting tables to help pay off family debt.
Although at work she was known as Miss Bossy Boots, at home she was the Black Sheep—belittled and bullied into wearing extra armour. As she shared her story, it became clear to me that this meeting was no coincidence. It felt like I was looking into a mirror of my past life—the one without purpose or hope. It became so clear to me that God had positioned me into her life to share His love—to lead the Black Sheep into the arms of her loving Shepherd.
The next day, I invited her to church, but she politely declined, promising instead to reach out to me “when the time is right”.
Six months later, she surprised me with a text message.
She had found herself in a pit of despair, unable to make sense of death’s sorrow. Her beloved grandmother was sick and passing away, and no amount of strength could change the inevitable. Her religion of self-trust and self-sufficiency was crumbling in the face of human mortality. Week after week, she turned up to church—hungry for answers and hope.
In God’s goodness, the “impossible” happened. She put her faith in Jesus and asked to be baptised as an expression of her choice.
The stranger became my sister in Christ.
The Black Sheep was welcomed home.
This friendship means a lot to me because her faith did not promise immunity from further suffering. To say that she was magically given a “happily ever after” would be a lie. Though she gained Christ, she still lost her grandmother. She has faced the anxiety of unemployment, ongoing family conflict, and was diagnosed with Graves’ disease. Her conversion to Christianity was an invitation for further mockery and opposition from her family.
In times of crisis, I have worried for her faith.
Will she fall away? Is her faith just a fad? Is Jesus worth the suffering and sacrifice?
Yet for the past ten years, through many hardships, her faith has remained steadfast and she has shown me that her God and Shepherd is worth her whole life.
God has used this experience and unlikely friendship to show me the significance of a “hello”, the power of prayer, and the value of small-talk and ordinary hospitality. After all, in a city filled with lost sheep, it would be an utter shame, to be known for nothing more than a girl who owns a laptop.
How did this letter speak to you?
What does mission in your city look like for you? Share our ideas!
Share a conversion story which reminds you of God’s power and heart for the lost.
In what ways did this story inspire or challenge your views on mission?
My book is now available on Amazon!
My debut book, Unmasking the Prodigal Daughter, is now available on Amazon in paperback and kindle formats: https://amzn.asia/d/ixe1vYV
My book shares my story from rebellion to redemption, and how God brought healing to childhood wounds and intergenerational trauma in my immigrant family. You can expect 100 heartfelt poems, prose, and prayers; along with original illustrations from my 4 year old daughter and aspiring artist, Talitha.
Finally, if you loved the book, I would SO appreciate a 5-star review on Amazon or Goodreads. Positive reviews supports indie authors in huge ways, and enables the book to reach more people.
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From the Archives
Missed a post? Catch up here!
To the Mums Who Never Bounced Back
A word of empowerment to mothers missing aspects of their former lives and who question the value of their work in the home.
church mums who never liked me
Poems telling stories of who I used to be and who I am becoming in Christ.
Thank you Heidi, it’s a very encouraging story. I also battle to connect and share naturally with others. It’s much easier to write something and send it off into the world, but I think personal connections are still the only way we can truly connect to someone at the deepest level.
Thank you for sharing such an encouraging story! Even though I’m a missionary in Taiwan, I can still empathize with apathy for the lost around me. So easy to forget in places of comfort