Welcoming the Stranger

I had the house to myself.  The football game was a plausible excuse to be doing nothing.  The sun had just pulled below the western horizon and the Christmas lights had responded on cue from the timer whirring on the front porch.

I heard a car door shut in front of the house and moments later the door bell rang.  The visit surprised me.  We have only a few drop-in-unannounced visitors — and it was a little early in the season for friends to be on holiday baking delivery runs.

As I swung the door open, I saw a young woman.  She was probably a college student, although my ability to gauge ages has diminished with each passing year.  When my eyes met hers, she smiled broadly.  “Hi!” I offered.  “Hi! she responded as she moved past me into the front hallway.

“Who is this?” I thought.  She was now in our living room.  The lights from the Christmas tree offered a silhouette, but I still wasn’t able to identify her.  She looked vaguely familiar, but, as with age discernment, my powers of recognition are fading as well.  Perhaps she is a co-worker of Nancy’s down at the store, I reasoned.  Maybe Nancy knows she is coming by and she’ll be home any minute.

About that time, the young woman turned with a puzzled look on her face.  At the edges of that look, fear was beginning to paint a more solemn mask.  I decided I should blatantly reveal my confusion over the purpose of her visit.

“And who was it you came to see?” I asked.  Her eyes showed mixed feelings — relief that I was aware of a problem and apprehension over what was to come.

“Professor Morris,” she said.

“Oh, the Morrises live next door — both of them professors,” I stated.  “You missed them by one house.”

She must have known I was wondering why she so willingly crossed the threshold of a home where a stranger opened the door.  “I am so sorry,” she said.  “When I talked to Professor Morris, she said it would be okay to come over — and that her parents might be visiting.  I thought you must be her dad!”

With that explanation and a half-dozen more apologies from her, I ushered her out and assured her that her visit had not been an intrusion.  As I made my way back to my recliner, I chuckled.  She thought I was Heidi’s father!  How preposterous!

As I watched my team continue to make mistakes that would eventually cost them the game, I felt my spirits sink, as well.  From this day forward, I would be known as an old man — someone old enough to be mistaken as the father of a college professor.  For half an hour, I sat and wondered where my life had gone and questioned whether or not I had met my purpose for existence.

Nancy came in a little later.  Reluctantly, I told her of the encounter.  I bravely spun the story as a funny one.  She didn’t laugh.  She just looked at me.  “Well, you are old enough to be Heidi’s father, after all.”

The truth of that stung a bit.  It was true, of course.  My earlier consideration of life and purpose and meaning surfaced again.  What was it all about?

A little later, while penning a letter to my son, I realized — my life and my purpose and all of its meaning were wrapped up in that special moment when I opened the door.  For that moment, all that mattered was welcoming the stranger.  This wasn’t a dramatic episode.  No, in fact, it was only one of those benign opportunities we have to gently grace another person.  Kindness, even with confusion, fills in the gaps and answers the questions that haunt us.  And a pleasant meeting is merely practice for those more difficult times.

Not all of our encounters with strangers will be as comfortable and safe as mine was last night.  Yet, every such moment presents a very real opportunity to realize our potential and to embrace the essence of a higher power.

A rather trivial trip to the front door was all God needed to remind me that my well-being is woven in intricate patterns in the lives of those around me — even the strangers.

Personal Freedom

Just one of those things I already know. Forgiving others frees me.

I recently realized that I had a couple of lists. The individuals on both were people I had been in conflict with in the past. The factor that allowed me to differentiate between the lists was forgiveness.

The group of people I had forgiven is a comfortable list. I’m not saying that everything is great with those folks. On most of them, I don’t know if they have forgiven me — although I know I have apologized for wrongdoings and asked for forgiveness. But I’m comfortable — both with the list and the people. I feel easy around them. Once again, I’m not positive about how they feel. I can only do what I can do.

That other one is troublesome — the unforgiven list. For whatever reason, I haven’t been able to bring myself to let go.

And I have, thus, denied myself freedom.

About time to make some New Year’s Resolutions — with names and faces attached.

Ministry

Something wasn’t quite right when the back tires of the Boeing 757 touched down in Dallas last Sunday. Travelers lulled into quiet thoughts by an uneventful flight were driven from their peace by the sudden side to side lurch of the plane.

Our seats were at the very back and that probably added to the sway. Still, I couldn’t remember a more dramatic touch down. My fellow passengers were strangely quiet again. When I looked over at Nancy, her chin was resting almost on her chest.

“Wow!” I thought. “She can sleep through anything.”

When I reached out to touch her arm to wake her, she squinted sideways at me and whispered, “I’m praying . . . I always give thanks when I get somewhere.”

And come to think of it, she does. Praying is one of her many ministries, but a major one. Not confined to her own well-being or that of family and friends, Nancy is always in prayer.

The plane’s taxi to the terminal was relatively short by DFW International standards. Yet, getting the door open proved to be a challenge for some reason. We never knew the story, being so far back. Despite the wait and the always present desperation of passengers needing to make close connections, the plane remained quiet. Maybe there were a lot of prayers being prayed.

I left the plane with a somber feeling. Even the flight attendants and captain seemed less cheery than usual. I wondered what could change this mood that seemed to have captured all of us.

We strode up the jetway toward the terminal, then inside and up a ramp that wrapped around the glassed waiting area for Gate C8. As I rounded the last turn to head into the concourse, I saw her framed in the glass corner.

She couldn’t have been more than two. Her dad sat close by, obviously dispatched to both distract and protect his daughter. I probably wouldn’t have noticed her except for the reaction she drew from almost everyone in front of me.

She would lean in, her little palms flat against the glass. She would peer expectantly toward the upcoming ramp. Then, when she saw a new face, she would explode with a giggle and a smile. And her explosion would envelope the traveler and they seemed different.

It was the unexpected uplift of spirit that alerted me. From the side as they turned, I could see their smiles. Their backs straightened and a spring seem to come back to their steps. I was already smiling when it came my turn. But I wasn’t prepared for what was to come.

When her eyes met mine, she pushed away from the glass. As she straightened she clapped her hands and laughed loud enough for me to hear her through the pane. I told myself that her reaction to me was more animated and heart-felt. Certainly, I had brightened her day. I could feel my own smile all the way down to my toes.

As I slowed, I saw her go back into her watchful stance and then bounce in merriment when Passenger 33D came up behind me. No, I realized. This was her ministry for the day, not mine to her. And I stopped to marvel at all of the people who minister to me in countless ways every day.

I want to minister. Yet, sometimes I think that it has to be complex. All the time knowing that immense good can be done with a quiet prayer and a sincere smile.