A Christmas Story
“Can you help me?!” It was as much a desperate plea as it was a question. The plea came from a beautiful young girl, and the plea was directed at me. It was a cold night in December at the Natick rest area on the Mass Pike. I had just come out of the convenience store, and the girl was standing beyond the car parked right next to mine. Long blonde hair, about seventeen or eighteen, shaggy white sweater, dress down jeans that look worn and torn when you buy them. Her eyes were tearing and they shined in the fluorescent light projecting over to us from the gas pump area.
The questioning plea was followed by the hurried talk of someone who wanted to explain all with little time to do it.
I signaled with hand cupping my ear that I couldn’t make out what she was saying. She quickly ran around her car to mine, and now we stood face to face.
She explained that she was out of gas and couldn’t make it home. Did she have a phone? Could she make a call for help? I didn’t ask. I just listened. With rapid fire urgency she made her case. She wouldn’t need much gas and she would give back later whatever gas I helped her to get.
“So you’re asking me for money?” I said. “Isn’t that it? You need money to get gas and go home?” My response to the story of her dilemma reduced her to silence. There was no “yes” or “no” to my question, only the pleading eyes of someone hoping for help, understanding, compassion, mercy.
At this point I was figuratively pinching myself, to ask myself if all this was really happening. I knew from the look on the girl’s face that her plight was real. There was no guile, no deceit. Far from that there was the pristine beauty and innocence of youth – the willingness to trust, to believe much as Anne Frank, that deep down people are good inside, children of God if you will, and if we approach them with openness we will find that goodness of the child of God made in His image.
It was now with this openness that the heart and soul of this beautiful young person had reached out to me. I was truly humbled by the courage she had shown to approach me, a total stranger, to risk showing how vulnerable she was, how much in dire need she truly was.
In my own soul and spirit the words came to me: Jesus looked upon her and loved her. I suddenly was reflecting on the many times in the Gospels where Jesus looked upon a person, whether a young rich man or a poor widow. He looked upon them and loved them; then He stretched forth His hand to help, to heal, to raise them up out of a stormy sea, or to raise them back to Life and set them free.
So now I could feel the Power of the Risen Christ within me reaching out through me to touch the life of this young girl. I now knew that this moment was not coincidence, not chance happening. The guiding hand of God’s Love had brought this moment to pass. The leading of the Holy Spirit had once more directed a person in need into the path of my life. Or on this feast day (December 8th) of the most Holy Mother of God, perhaps Mary had led this child to someone who could reveal to them the Love of her Son.
“I will help you in the name of Christ…” I said. Stunned, but suddenly excited and encouraged, she began once more to remonstrate that she would repay whatever help I gave her. I raised my hand in protest, and looking right up close into those tearing eyes, I said “Listen to me!” She became quiet.
The stage was now set for a dramatic and climactic pronouncement, and I did no disappoint. “I am going to help you in the name of Jesus Christ.” Having said that, I pulled out my billfold from my back pocket, found a twenty dollar bill, and gave it to her. The Joy that ignited on her face was like that of a child on Christmas morning. I turned to leave, not waiting to watch the tear stream down the side of her left cheek, but I know it did.
There was one glance back at her to say “Merry Christmas!” As I said it she smiled and rushed back to her car with the energy and vigor of someone renewed, restored, raised to new life, “resurrected” you might say – the ultimate sign that Jesus was there, His Risen Presence powerfully alive in the midst of us.
“Merry Christmas!”
Doug +
“Can you help me?!” It was as much a desperate plea as it was a question. The plea came from a beautiful young girl, and the plea was directed at me. It was a cold night in December at the Natick rest area on the Mass Pike. I had just come out of the convenience store, and the girl was standing beyond the car parked right next to mine. Long blonde hair, about seventeen or eighteen, shaggy white sweater, dress down jeans that look worn and torn when you buy them. Her eyes were tearing and they shined in the fluorescent light projecting over to us from the gas pump area.
The questioning plea was followed by the hurried talk of someone who wanted to explain all with little time to do it.
I signaled with hand cupping my ear that I couldn’t make out what she was saying. She quickly ran around her car to mine, and now we stood face to face.
She explained that she was out of gas and couldn’t make it home. Did she have a phone? Could she make a call for help? I didn’t ask. I just listened. With rapid fire urgency she made her case. She wouldn’t need much gas and she would give back later whatever gas I helped her to get.
“So you’re asking me for money?” I said. “Isn’t that it? You need money to get gas and go home?” My response to the story of her dilemma reduced her to silence. There was no “yes” or “no” to my question, only the pleading eyes of someone hoping for help, understanding, compassion, mercy.
At this point I was figuratively pinching myself, to ask myself if all this was really happening. I knew from the look on the girl’s face that her plight was real. There was no guile, no deceit. Far from that there was the pristine beauty and innocence of youth – the willingness to trust, to believe much as Anne Frank, that deep down people are good inside, children of God if you will, and if we approach them with openness we will find that goodness of the child of God made in His image.
It was now with this openness that the heart and soul of this beautiful young person had reached out to me. I was truly humbled by the courage she had shown to approach me, a total stranger, to risk showing how vulnerable she was, how much in dire need she truly was.
In my own soul and spirit the words came to me: Jesus looked upon her and loved her. I suddenly was reflecting on the many times in the Gospels where Jesus looked upon a person, whether a young rich man or a poor widow. He looked upon them and loved them; then He stretched forth His hand to help, to heal, to raise them up out of a stormy sea, or to raise them back to Life and set them free.
So now I could feel the Power of the Risen Christ within me reaching out through me to touch the life of this young girl. I now knew that this moment was not coincidence, not chance happening. The guiding hand of God’s Love had brought this moment to pass. The leading of the Holy Spirit had once more directed a person in need into the path of my life. Or on this feast day (December 8th) of the most Holy Mother of God, perhaps Mary had led this child to someone who could reveal to them the Love of her Son.
“I will help you in the name of Christ…” I said. Stunned, but suddenly excited and encouraged, she began once more to remonstrate that she would repay whatever help I gave her. I raised my hand in protest, and looking right up close into those tearing eyes, I said “Listen to me!” She became quiet.
The stage was now set for a dramatic and climactic pronouncement, and I did no disappoint. “I am going to help you in the name of Jesus Christ.” Having said that, I pulled out my billfold from my back pocket, found a twenty dollar bill, and gave it to her. The Joy that ignited on her face was like that of a child on Christmas morning. I turned to leave, not waiting to watch the tear stream down the side of her left cheek, but I know it did.
There was one glance back at her to say “Merry Christmas!” As I said it she smiled and rushed back to her car with the energy and vigor of someone renewed, restored, raised to new life, “resurrected” you might say – the ultimate sign that Jesus was there, His Risen Presence powerfully alive in the midst of us.
“Merry Christmas!”
Doug +
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