When I was a young seminarian, I was fascinated with Grace Lee Boggs’ life and work. Then, I had a chance to go to an urban ministries conference in Chicago where she spoke and I dutifully took notes.

Now that it’s been a couple of decades, what I remember from that day is how Dr. Boggs sat down next to me at lunch. I’m not one to be immediately chummy with people I admire. I was nervous. My head was racing. What would I say to this amazing woman? How can I tell her how much appreciate her work and her struggle? What if I say something dumb in front of her?

My internal fears didn’t last long, because she started asking me questions. And I don’t mean, “How are you” sort of questions. I mean that she knew more about me in five minutes than most people know after years. She wanted to know how I got from Moody Bible Institute, to seminary, to such a liberal gathering. She wanted to know why I was interested in urban ministry. She wanted to know how I became a feminist. She wanted to know what I planned to do. She wanted to know what philosophers interested me and why I loved them. She was like a dry sponge, soaking up everything she could about me.