Saturday, February 26, 2011

Strangers


I judged you for watching sweaty men in tights play fight.  Forgetting that plank-eyes often assume much too much, I placed you in a box.  Forgive me.

*****************

We sat on the tarmac waiting.  And restlessness grew for the weary 136 who had to wait.  Waiting is something we hate.  Oft we forget that it is in the waiting times of life (when we are forced to wander from our scheduled existence) that G-d enters in.

[Small talk with Stanger #1.]

“Is this your final destination?”

“Ya, just have to make my way up to Stouffville.”

“North of here, right?”

“Ya, north-east.  The other side of Markham.  You?”

“I live in Mississauga.”

[Enter Stranger #2]

“Sorry to interrupt.  You said you live in Stouffville... about how long does it take to get there from here?”

“About 40 minutes, this time of night.  You heading that way?”

“Maybe.  My sister lives up there and I was thinking of staying the night with her instead of driving all the way home.”

“Well, let me know what you decide.  I’ll chip in for gas or whatever if you will give me a lift.  Otherwise I am paying $80 for a taxi.”

He called his sister and arranged to stay at her place for the night.  I grabbed my bags and heavy winter coat (it was minus 30 in Winnipeg), exited the plane, and walked into the terminal.  Stranger #2 came out a few minutes later carrying his bags and a guitar.  He introduced himself as David.

We waited for his checked bag.  And we waited for the shuttle to the parking lot.  While we waited we talked.

David just moved home a few months ago after a dozen years out west.  His mom died last year so he moved home in December to spend time with his dad.  His dad picked up an infection and died in January.  Now he is early 30-something dealing with death, wills, a house full of stuff to sort through...

We sat in his ‘95 Ford Taurus for the 40 minute ride to Stouffville.  All in all we spent about an hour and a half together.

Isn’t it amazing that we are alive - that there is life?  It’s too bad they don’t teach you about life in school.

We spoke of listening.  Learning to wait.  Meditation.  Living in the present.  Hospitality.  Slowing things down.  Taking life in.

I interrupted a story.  “Can you pull into the gas station so I can fill up the car? I don’t have any cash.”  He drove on past the gas station and continued on about being welcomed once by strangers in a strange land.

A handful of minutes later I was home.  He beat me out the car to hand me my bag from the trunk.  He wouldn’t accept anything.

We are strangers no more.

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