strangers?

One time I saw a young girl alone with a baby. It was a crisp winter morning and her hair shone dark purple in the sun. She was panhandling outside the Holiday Inn and the door clerk came out and told her to be on her way and quit bothering people and she said “but I have no place to go” and I wondered if anyone would recognize the Madonna and Christ child if they happened to meet. I remember thinking it’s not like there are any published pictures and purple seemed like a good hair color for a Madonna so I gave her a dollar just in case.    (Brian Andreas - StoryPeople)

What would we do if we were faced with the purple Madonna?

Would we notice?

And if we did, would we hurriedly walk by, averting our gaze and thus minimizing her existence? Would we tell her to be on her way, whether overtly or covertly, by our words or our avoidance?

Would we give her a dollar and continue walking, feeling good for doing something nice for another or would we stop and talk to her? Give her not just money, but something much more important – giving her acknowledgement and extending our heart. Maybe even offer to hold the baby for a while so she could rest her arms, maybe hold her hand for a while so she would know she was not alone - even if only for a few minutes?

Out and about in the world, I think about that a lot.

There was a song in the 80’s that asked the question, “What if God was one of us? Just a stranger on the bus trying to make his way home?”

We don’t really know, do we?

Yesterday I was at the salon. Sitting out in the 'holding zone' / reception area, waiting for my turn to be beautified, I took in all the activity around me. I love watching people and observing life as it unfolds around me.

So, I watch....people sitting, coming and going. And I kid you not - each and every person
was in the middle of a cell phone conversation and/or texting, and/or face buried in a
magazine.

Well except for me and one other woman who is watching me watching them and grins at
me, saying, "It's a statement of the world isn't it?"

I laugh nodding my head and we strike up a conversation. About nothing in particular - about stuff that's important and stuff that isn't. About woman stuff. "Small talk" as it used to be called. She tells me of a book she's been reading and we find out we have much in common. We talk some more.

She asks me about my cane, and hearing my story tells me she’s sorry I have to be going through all this. It's a bittersweet Christmas she tells me, going on to explain that her daughter-in-law just miscarried the first of the month and it would have been her first (and long awaited) grandchild. "I'm so sorry" I say, meaning it with all my heart because I’m a new grandma and I can’t imagine the world without my precious little princess. My heart not only heard her pain, but saw it - in her eyes, in her posture, in the way she bowed her head and looked away, just for a moment.

I reached out and put my hand over hers. She laced her fingers with mine. And we sat there for a moment, silent - honoring, connecting and healing by shared, conscious presence.

We both could have so easily missed the opportunity to reach out to one another – to take care of one another, to be there for each other.

Covertly or overtly.

Plato wrote; “Be always kind, for everyone you meet is fighting their own battle.”

We all long for someone to care about us, to notice us, love us, smile on us, be kind to us, maybe even hold our hand or embrace us in a hug – letting us know, in the midst of our battles, that we aren’t alone.   That we matter.

The purple Madonna outside the Holiday Inn, the stranger on the bus just trying to make their way home, or the person standing next to us in line - does it matter?  For in the end, I believe we are all looking for the same thing - a tangible, heartfelt connection - someone to say "I'm here, I see you and I care."

Out and about in this world of busyness, technology and "social media" - I think about that a lot.

Maybe we all should.