Lovely Stranger

I waited by the bus stop in half-hearted anticipation, my full weight slouched into the sidewalk bench – slightly hunched forward as I texted some or the other of my social media friends. It had been a long day; my second day volunteering at the Rock Thrift store. I could see it now across the road, part of my view obstructed by passing cars and by the sale rack placed right next to the doorway. Occasionally a homeless person would walk in or out of the shop, sometimes downcast upon entering but always with a twinkle of hope and even a smile when leaving. I had wondered about the aura of the Rock ever since our first volunteers meeting. Something about it was unlike any other working environment I’d ever been in (that’s saying a lot given I’ve worked at least 8 jobs, but not much given they were all minimum wage entrance level occupations). Violet’s gentle and quiet spirit was the first thing that struck me about her, after her heartfelt smile and before the fact that she begins work meetings with prayer and devotion. I can’t imagine that being a way of life for anyone else, except in Christ-seeking churches. We’d spent the first two days of volunteering steaming racks upon racks of 2^nd (maybe 3^rd) hand clothes.

I currently sucked one of my hand blisters as I eyed a small man go round the curve towards me. I love people-watching, timeless hobby that, and there’s no place like San Diego to feed such a fetish. I’d since learned from my mom that there’s really nothing inherently wrong with saying hi to strangers. Since then, deciding whether or not I’d greet someone based on distance and perceived approachability had become an important element of my people-watching. I sized him up a little and it didn’t take me 2 seconds to categorize him as homeless. I think I’m not alone in feeling bolder when talking to people of lower economic status than myself, so unless I think it may be dangerous, I greet the homeless (subject to my mood). His shabby clothes drooped around him and despite my fatigue I figured he needed a hi much more than it would hurt me to acknowledge him. When he was the perfect distance from me (about half a meter), I said the risky word and waited vulnerably as always to see if and how he’d respond to my advance. It’s always the hardest part. To my surprise he gave me possibly the most joyful and heartfelt greeting I believe I’ll receive in a while. His eyes had the twinkle of Rock Thrift store leavers, and his spirit, the momentary glimpse I caught of it, ran deep and love-filled. He reminded me of Violet, and come to think of it, of Jesus. Though we only crossed paths once and held eye contact for a second, and though I cannot remember his spoken words, I cannot forget his enchanting smile and the impression that moment left in my heart. As his lopsided wheelchair grew smaller in the distance, and even when I entered the bus that wise, wise saying became salient:

“Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

Hebrews 13:2 (ASV)