When we parted ways, I thanked her and she said, “well, I believe in helping others, I belong to a religion that teaches me to reach out…” I’m nodding, nodding, waiting for her to say LDS, but instead she said, “I am a Christain Scientist.” I was humbled. Bless you, Christian Scientists.

Wow, thanks for describing it in such wonderful terms.

I’ve actually done that. There was a period of time when I didn’t have a car and I rode the bus. I got to have a nodding acquaintance with some people. I didn’t have a regular 9-to-5 job, so it was not a daily-same-time-of-day commute thing with me.

But one day, after I had obtained a car, I saw one of the regulars standing at the bus stop. I stopped and offered her a ride. She recognized me and accepted.

The vein or over-arching point which I see in Heather’s original post is that even just a polite verbal acknowledgement of someone’s existance means a lot.

The person doesn’t have to be down-on-their-luck or homeless. Even everyday Joe’s and Jane’s plodding along with their often self-admittedly boring lives have a need to be recognized.

I used this program to teach myself a few words (hello, thank-you, you’re welcome) in about five languages. One day while going through the check-out line at Wal-mart, the cashier was dressed in traditional clothing of India. With a tired expression, no eye contact, and a weary voice she said the “Thank you for shopping at Wal-mart” mantra as she handed me my change.

In response, I said “danyavad”, which is “thank you” in the Hindi language. Her expression changed into a smile, she made eye contact with me, and I felt a small warm rush of having made a small positive effect in someone’s life with something that cost me nothing.

Seems like a couple of decades ago it was no big deal to hitch a ride. I wish it would go back to the way it was.It drives me crazy how big shows like Law and Order SVU have become. I feel like they’ve fostered a culture of fear and suspicion. It really cuts down on our communal compassion and brotherhood.

I worked at a gas station for about a year in a rural area and I got to be a part of a lot of people’s routine. It amazed me how friendly some of the roughest, toughest looking folk could be.

Yes. I have a lot of them. However, I don’t often meet the same people over and over, but sometimes do. But I posit that a bond or a relationship, or at least the potential for one, can come from just one meeting.

“How did it happen, “

They happen when I generally do three things: 1) shop, including buying gasoline, 2) eat at restaurants, 3) do laundry at laundromats.

“why were you together, “

I bought something from them; was standing in the checkout line next to them; they were my waiter/waitress; they parked next to or near me in the parking lot; they used the washing machine or dryer next to mine, I passed them in the hallway of the nursing home; they were attending the person whom I was visiting in the hospital/nursing home.

“who initiated the connection?”

I usually do. I ask things like “Where are you (or ‘your family’) originally from?” “What languages do you speak?” “Would you like a free book or video in your language from my church?”

The foreign language angle is my excuse for speaking or the conversation starter. I still get terrible stage fright and often chicken-out (ie: disobey) when the Spirit tells me I need to speak to a person who only speaks English.

Out of hundreds of encounters, there has only been one baptism that I know of, and he already had LDS friends in other cities. I have maintained a relationship with him, though he has moved from Indianapolis to the West coast.

I am fascinated by this idea, though, because there are many people that have come into my life as the result of random or continued “running into” each other. Perhaps it’s all not as much a coincidence as it appears. Some of the people that have impacted me most in my life have been the result of this kind of beginning.

Well, I guess in truth, isn’t this how we ultimately meet most of the people in our lives? Aside from family, the closest people to me all happen to be ones that moved into my life in some unexpected, but entirely blessed, way.

Once when it was raining cats and dogs, I stopped and asked a guy carrying a couple of bags of groceries if he wanted a ride and he was flabbergasted.

“You don’t even know me!” He said.

“Well, I’m not an axe murderer and you look okay to me, get in out of the rain.”

And I took him to his home, he was living at the trailer park temporarily in town for a job. Very nice young man.

I did that a lot after James died, partly because my heart went out to young men, and partly because I didn’t care what happened to me.

It’s kind of a sad commentary on society that we must be so careful how and who we help these days.

One Thanksgiving I decided that teaching the children compassion for others would be a significant opportunity with this homeless man.

We took and loaded up part of our Thanksgiving dinner into a disposable container. Covered it significantly to maintain the heat.

We then drove to his cardboard home not even 1/2 mile down the main street from us. I was trying to teach by word and by deed the beautiful concept of serving the *least of these* to my young children as we drove the short distance.

My husband got out as the children and I watched from the car, he placed the container of food next to his cardboard home as the homeless man was not in his home presently.

Wanting my family to experience those feelings of kindness by serving this man who to this day is still walking around town almost 22 years later and yes, homeless.

Small moment for the act, hopefully large moment for teachings of the heart.