Fear Not...

"Excuse me,  I hate to bother you.  I just need someone to talk to and you look like...well...like maybe you won't say no."    The twenty-something man approached me in the parking lot between a store and my car.  The mid-morning sun was already blistering the pavement as he brushed his sweat-soaked brown hair from his forehead.  A fluorescent  green stud pierced his lower lip.  His blue eyes searched mine.  


Had his instinct about me been right?  

 I don't need directions" he smiled; reserved. 


Was it written on my face that I hate to give directions? 


"But, I do have a favor to ask.  I just got off work and am trying to get my medications refilled.  I am really embarrassed to ask, but  I am three dollars short."   

It's a well worn line.  Much like, I am out of gas...my kid is sick....my boyfriend stole my wallet. 

My position on helping strangers who ask for money is an ever-shifting one.  If I feel like I am being hustled, I walk away. If I am feeling light-hearted, I tend to be more generous.  If I am cranky,you would be smart to  just step aside.  When I don't want to figure out  how I feel,  I avoid eye contact. 


I woke up before sunrise  this morning, feeling raw and sad about  the mass shooting in Aurora, Colorado a couple of days ago. I sat in the darkness and wanted everyone I care about to be within my eye sight. The sun appeared, as it always does, but the darkness of fear and pain lingered.  

I had just shopped  for my daughter's birthday gifts--soft pajamas, because I want to cradle her in my arms, like when she was a child. I cried in the store because I  won't  see her on her birthday, which reminds me of how much I love her.   She is a busy young wife/mother/massage therapist/community leader; doing a wonderful job. We will spend time together soon, a couple of weeks after her birthday, when we travel to Pennsylvania.  

"I have an anxiety disorder, and depression.  I don't have any family here, but my mother is coming to visit in a couple of weeks.  I'm so excited about that.  I'll be out of the shelter by then and  have my own place.  She is going to stay with me.  After two years, I will finally see her."  


He filled  me on details of some of the hardships and triumphs he has experienced lately; from homelessness and injury, to employment and reconnection with his mother.  

Have you had breakfast?"  I asked.  His thin frame made me wonder if he had adequate food available. 

"A granola bar" he answered.

"I can cover the three dollars for your meds, but how about joining me for a bagel?"

Conversation flowed easily between us in the coffee shop.  He dreams of becoming a writer, wants to try  alternative treatments his illness and hopes  to finish college. 

"Thank you so much for talking to me.  I miss my mother so much.   The anxiety is so hard to live with.  I really just needed someone to listen".

Random violence is scary,and my reaction to it can can immobilize me.  His physical description is much like the Colorado shooter.  Why didn't I walk away? I am not sure.  There was something in his eyes and voice that drew me in.  I believe I listened to my heart, instead of my fears. 


Random connections can shed light into that lingering darkness.Synchronicity--that magical exchange that can happen when I don't get in the way--enriches my life every time I take the chance to embrace it.    


We exchanged contact information and talked about getting together again. He left to catch a bus.  Will I ever hear from him? I hope so, but it doesn't matter.


I smiled as I walked to my car, in the bright light of the day, and in my heart. 


He was right, he didn't need directions. 

I did.