And I can’t stop crying…

And I can’t stop crying…

I was at the grocery store today for 4 things.  Batteries for my outdoor Christmas lights, there is no plug for outdoor lights at the front porch; cottage cheese, leafy greens and 1/2 & 1/2 for my coffee.  In addition I picked up a whole host of other items, $134 worth.  I laughed when I was rung up.  Typical me, but I hadn’t expected that!

Before that, I had purchased 19 gallons of gas, I was running below 1/4 of a tank, which I don’t usually do but I knew that I had Kroger points so I would get .30 cents off the gallon.   Score!

As I went into the store whistling I saw a woman sitting on a bench outside.  She looked a bit lost and I ungraciously thought to myself - she’s going to ask me for money.  I live in a depressed neighborhood.  She didn’t, she just glanced at me and went back to her thoughts.  I went on my merry whistling way into the store.  

I whistled, hummed and sang as I went about my business.  I do that.  I enjoy being happy at the grocery store.  I find whistling and humming and smiling and laughing with strangers in Kroger fun.  There was an employee who was singing as she was working - I thought - that is so happy, that is a good thing.  I am glad I am not the only one to sing when in the grocery.

It’s who I am.  It’s how I grocery shop.  It may be the giddy feeling of spending money, that shopping therapy thing.  I don’t know, but for a good time, invite me grocery shopping.  :p

Anyway, on my way out I smiled and said a big hello to the Salvation Army Bell Ringer, who helped me separate my mini-cart from another a couple of weeks ago.  She taught me the secret to separating stuck carts, which I have used a couple of times.  A good turn and I pay it back with recognition, change if I have it, and a big hello and smile when I see her.  I am flirting with showing up with my violin someday to keep her company, but I need to do some practicing before that happens…

As I walk past the bench, I see the woman is still there.  She looks up at me and starts to cry and says, I am from Hamilton…and my mind immediately goes to the scam of - I ran out of gas I can’t get home, I need money for gas, I need money for the bus, I need money to get money…I have seen it in action.  

A fellow stopped me in downtown Cincy.  I had street parked.  He told me his wife was in the car with his kids, he ran out of gas, he needed money to get gas.  I asked him where the car was, concerned of course if there are kids involved.  And he looked around then pointed to a random car across a parking lot.  They are there? I asked, ‘in that car over there, can I talk to them?‘ The car was empty as far as I could tell.   He just walked away from me.  

A few hours later,  I drove to a parking lot for an event a few blocks down and the same fellow stopped me.  His wife was in the car around the corner, he had kids.  I called him on it and told him he had already stopped me and I said, ‘this is a scam isn’t it.’  He gave me the same time of day he gave me before.  I drove away, and parked in another lot.  Of course there the niggling feeling maybe he couldn’t get money in the time I was gone, maybe people were as suspicious as I.  Maybe he did have a need.

But, I also go back to the time in San Francisco where my roommate and I were going to Chevy’s for a rare meal out.  The meter was maybe a half hour long?  I don’t recall exactly, except we were talking about having to remember to come out again to put money in the meter.  A street person came up and said ‘do you want me to watch the meter?’  Patrick said ‘yes, can you do that?’  

‘Of course, no problem, I’m going to be here anyway’  he said smiles and a helpful attitude, and Patrick proceeded to hand him his pocketful of change.  I was buoyant.  How lucky was that!?!

You have already guessed it.  We came out to a ticket on the car and the fellow had absconded with the change.  I laugh at the irony and naiveté.   I like that story.  To this day it brings me joy, not because we lost money, which at that time was pretty precious, but because we were trusting souls who got conned by a clever person.  It was an ‘honest and clever’ con.

I have given people bus money and fares to get far away from San Francisco, but it’s in the giving.  Knowing that there is that off chance, the hope that the money is of service.

Back to the woman on the bench.  She was wearing a thin purple fleece coat and looking up at me with tears in her eyes.  Her friends hadn’t come back to get her.  Can I give her a ride to Hamilton, which isn’t around the corner from where I live.  The thing I noticed were her teeth.  They were white.  Her eyes were blue and bloodshot from her tears.  She had a desperate look on her face.

‘Okay’ I said.  ‘Okay.’   We walked across the parking lot to my big ol’ van that I bought for my aging greyhound Izzi.  I relate to animals.  I relate less to people.  I believe from being single and living in the city, that it has made me suspicious.  And from growing up - animals are not as judgmental, they are safe. I am questioning my decision.

She goes on to explain that her friend who drives a white car asked her to come along to get some money from her friend’s boyfriend.  Her friend was going to get his card?  Her friend hadn’t come back and it had been over an hour.  

I was again suspicious.  She was crying and cold.  I almost said, ‘Let me go home and unload my groceries then I’ll be back’.  But I didn’t.  I put the groceries in the car, handed her my cell phone and asked her if she wanted to call her boyfriend.  She had mentioned him and that he didn’t drive.  We tried twice and she couldn’t get through.

I know it wasn’t the smartest thing to do.  Give a ride to a stranger.  But I did.  

And I can’t stop crying.

I received a text from a friend.  I texted back ‘I am giving a stranger a ride I will call you later’.  And that was it.  My protection in case anything untoward happened to me.  I then put the address into my iPhone and we proceeded out. 

I knew from talking to her that she had trusted this person to get her home and they hadn’t arrived back.  I probed a little but it sounded like the person might have been more of an acquaintance than friend?  She was a simple soul?  She was taken advantage of?  I don’t know what her story was, but - ‘her friend had asked her to come along while her friend got money from her boyfriend.  She was dropped off at Kroger in NCH, because her friend’s boyfriend would get jealous’  This is what I know.  And I am suspicious.  Is she going to take me some place to be jumped or robbed?  That suspicion was in the back of my mind.

I asked for her address and plugged it into my phone.  At least I had a ‘paper trail’ of where I was going.

She was pretty far from home and said if I take Hamilton Ave till it meets Pleasant Farm, did I know where that is?  No I don’t.  I asked if it was okay to use what the GPS had mapped out?  Yes, she said.  I don’t want you to be lost.  Okay, so off we go.

In the back of my mind I am wondering what makes a woman get into the car with a stranger.  She had told me in the parking lot that she took a chance on asking me for a ride because I was whistling and seemed happy and jolly.  And God dear God!. I wish I were actually that person…

And I can’t stop crying.

As we hit Colerain Avenue we hit traffic.  She had asked if there was always this much traffic, and I said I don’t know.  I don’t usually drive this way.  I tried to figure out the time in my car which is now an hour and a half off, and military time (i like to practice my math).  

Then check my phone which is also military time and from 16:00 to 18:00 hours I seem to have a black hole.  So 17:40 wasn’t making sense, until I saw that my iPhone clock had an analog dial, it was headed towards five.  I hadn’t realized how late it was.  Ah, when I figured it out I explained.  I imagine it’s always busy at this time as people are getting off work.  ‘Rush hour’ she said.  ‘Yup rush hour. ‘ 

At this time I am thinking she is probably uncomfortable because she is in a car with a stranger, doesn’t drive and the route I am taking might be different from how she came.  I talk about my parents in Maine, that I have travelled in this car a lot.  Is she comfortable with the seat heat, is it warm enough.  I am trying to give clues that I am human and not as lonely as I appear.  She is grateful for the warmth.

I suddenly realize that I have no socks on.   Weird thought.  If they find my sockless body somewhere what will they think?  They won’t be thinking that I ran out to give George a short walk but he seemed so happy that I extended it to the long walk, then went to the grocery store…

We get thru the snarl of Colerain and head onto more freeway.  I am conscious of my being un-talkative.  I say, I know, let’s put on Christmas carols.  I change the station and tune into 93.3 christian radio, Christmas carols.  I have been saying short prayers to God to get me home safely. I start singing as I do and say you can sing too…but she doesn’t join me.  

Now if she were writing this narrative, I am sure it would go something like this…

I got into the car with a stranger, I don’t know exactly where I am, and she has put on Christmas carols and has invited me to sing… I am desperate.  I am human.

And now, I can’t stop crying.  

We got closer to Hamilton.  It had been a long quiet trip.  She had mentioned a few times that she had her Christmas tree set up at home and her daughter’s presents underneath the tree.  

How old was her daughter I asked?  11 she said.  Her sister had custody for her child, and she and her mom and daughter were getting together on Christmas Eve.  Where do I go with that information except to say, It’s nice you can all get together.  More silence.  I talk about my dog, George! Who I am waffling between wishing my precious was here with me to give me a boost of confidence and glad that he’s not here because if anything should happen to me, it should be me alone and not my innocent companion.

And now, I can’t stop crying.

Coming into Hamilton at the Columbia bridge, she told me about the three bridges, I was in the wrong lane.  I slowed traffic in my lane, while two yahoos, kept me out of the correct lane, and waved twice at the person who let me in to the B Street Lane.  While we were waiting for the light, which she said was really long, she showed me a picture of her daughter that she had on the lanyard around her neck.  

Her daughter had dark hair and a very sweet face.  I had to remove my distance glasses to see the picture clearly.  And while I wish I had told Tanna this - her daughter looked just like her, she has sweet face too.

We are in an area she recognizes.  She recommends I deviate from the GPS instructions and take the left after Main St.  Main St. has so many lights, Park is one way and has fewer lights.  I say no problem knowing my GPS will re-route and it sounds legitimate.  Low and behold.  I am re-routed.

We come up to her apartment building, she is quick to show me her drive way, ‘there, there, there!’ she saids.  She had asked if I wanted to come in to meet her boyfriend early on in the trip, I said, ’no, honey, I can’t do that.  I need to get home. ‘ 

‘We could say a prayer for you.’  I am thinking, give a stranger a ride home?  If I arrive there safely, go inside?  Nope, not happening.  Not alone.

‘You can still say a prayer for me.  I don’t have to be present, the Lord works in mysterious ways….’

She had also said, “I can never pay you back’.  I said , ’You don’t have to.  I am happy to bring you home safe and warm.  I hope you don’t find yourself in this situation again.  Just be careful.  You don’t know who is out there.’  Thinking also to myself, I don’t know who is out there….

She says,  ‘This is such a relief to my heart to be home.’  

I am glad for her, I am still a little wary for me.   I drop her off in the parking lot to her building and turn my van around to head home.  I feel like it was - okay.  I am glad I am safe and I am glad she is home safely.  I spent time getting my home address up and head off.  I realize at this moment of typing.  I didn’t give her the courtesy, I would anyone in my vehicular care, make sure she made it to the front door.  

And I am crying….

I called my friend John Dolor, who had texted me as I got in the car.  John, one of the kindest people I know.  I was glad to speak with him for most of my way back home.  

The closer I got to home the more I felt like crying.  Deep heaving sobs….

For the people who are lost, I include myself in that group, not in a bad way, but since I have left home I don’t feel like I have a home.  I have a place that I live from which I journey out, to find family.  That is my home.  I am grateful for that.  

And I am crying…

For the people who have to rely on strangers like me who know for sure they are not up to the task.  

I am crying…

It goes further, for the people who live in refugee camps for example: local homeless, rural poor or international refugee camps you see online.  

I am crying…

The people who have nothing, and I have more than I can fit in this little 650 sq ft house.  

I feel deeply, I am crying deeply for the people who cold and hungry.  For the people in this world who are crying out ‘Lord where are you?  Humanity, where are you?  People where are you?”

God was with me?  God was on my journey with me? Yes.    But, God was truly with Tanna.  God got Tanna home.  

I was a dumb instrument of his good, of his grace.  I was suspicious, but happy that my extension of grace didn’t include giving my life.  Sounds pretty dramatic at this point, so no,  I don’t feel like an instrument of his peace.  

I am having a difficult time reconciling my good gifts with what is going on in this world.  There are people who need help and if they are asking me for help it they must be in pretty bad shape, because the bubble I live in has a roof, four walls, heat, running water, a gorgeous hound name George! and a cat named Simba who is anxious to keep me warm and clean.  :)

At this point I am crying and can’t stop for the hurt in the world.  The best I can do each day, for now, is to pray.  That is the absolute best I can do for now, because I don’t know how to solve the hurt…

And if you have actually read this far, pray for Tanna, because she gifted me with 1000 deeds for what I gave to her, for which I am sorrowful to say is a suspicious ride home.  Pray for her that she has 1000 deeds of kindness…

And I am crying…

Pray for the homeless, pray for the needy, pray…just pray for people to stand up and do good in this world, even if it isn’t you.  Because it wasn’t me.  Honestly, it wasn’t me who got this lost woman home.  With all my suspicion…it was a warm car and a warm ride she needed, it wasn’t me.  I was too lost in my thoughts to be of any help, but somehow I was of service.