Strangers

A tall man with a mustache swings the store door open. His black cap perches jauntily on his head—backwards—and he walks with a swagger. His unzipped jacket reveals a graphic T-shirt and a necklace underneath. Two teenage girls trail in behind him, tossing their locks of black hair, with high-top sneakers squeaking on the floor. They appear to be sisters, sharing a pudgy shape.  They split to explore the store, occasionally exclaiming over some find.

My co-worker asks, “Are those his daughters or his sisters or his girlfriends?”

We cannot tell. But I wonder who they are.

There’s the short, old man at Wal-Mart, bearded and gray-headed with a toque pulled over his ears. He wanders in the parking lot in the evenings, asking customers for spare change. Why is he there? Has he always been a beggar?

I have never asked.

A bus stops ahead of me, and children spill out, swinging backpacks over their shoulders. Some laugh in camaraderie with friends while others walk away alone, with hoods over heads, headphones over ears, and phones in hand. Is anyone waiting at home to greet them? How will they spend the rest of the day? Do their classmates treat them well?

I wish I could find out.

In the train at the airport, the young man with tightly curled hair standing near me gazes out the window, shifting uneasily. His light dress shirt complements his dark complexion. The train hasn’t stopped yet, but he has already grabbed his bag and stepped up to the door. As it opens, he takes off running for the escalators, not realizing his phone just clattered to the floor.

Another man picks it up, yells after him, and runs, but the young man has disappeared. Why was he dressed up and in a rush? What will he do when he discovers his phone is missing?

I can only guess.

I watch strangers nearly every day. And I always wonder about their lives. I speculate about their stories. I tend to make assumptions, but how many of them are accurate? Could I care enough to ask them about their lives? I wish I could follow them on their life journey. But for most, it’s only a glance or one hello, and they’re gone again.

One customer at the store used to shop regularly. I learned her name and she told me some about her family. We discussed the relevance of the Bible, eternity, and modesty. She seemed to be searching. But since she moved away with her boyfriend, I haven’t seen her again.

There was the customer who told confusing reports of intense family feuds, a dangerously unpredictable girlfriend, court trials, poverty, and more. One day, he waited for the police to arrive at the store to pick him up. Sure enough, they handcuffed him right there and took him away.

Sometimes, the more I know, the more I wonder about what I don’t know.

Sometimes individuals attend church for a few months, but before I get to know them, they move on again. Single young men come for work, couples visit from the city or community, or families immigrate here. I find out there’s a lot more that could be told and yet, they slip out of my life so soon. Some of them return to a place worse than they came from.

Stories. So many untold stories. These strangers all have a life. They all have hopes, dreams, and disappointments just as I do. Even though I meet them only once, can I leave an impact that will last for eternity?

He who is a stranger today could be my friend tomorrow. He who is on the brink of eternal darkness could be pulled back into the light. This is the moment to reach out my hand.