What I’m about to tell you may seem, well, just plain weird. But it’s the way I am, and it’s the way this particular day went down…
It was Leap Day, and I really wanted to do something I don’t ordinarily do. I mean, it only comes around every four years, for cry-eye. So I wracked my brain and decided to get take-out Chinese food for lunch. (Yes, I know that’s hardly exciting/earth-shattering/cutting-edge. I can be quite the dull girl.) I drove to a new-to-me restaurant, ordered a variety of dishes, drove home and feasted.
The food was good and plentiful. Since I like leftovers, the quantity mightn’t have been a problem. But Mister doesn’t want to eat the same thing, twice a day, seven days in a row. Because of this, there was simply too much of a good thing. And I didn’t want to waste it by throwing it out. I also knew that if I crammed it in the fridge, it would go bad and eventually be thrown out anyway.
So I saved a portion for us and wrapped up the rest in two separate care packages (along with plastic cutlery). My big plan was to drive over to a nearby supermarket parking lot. There is often an older gentleman there, asking for change. It didn’t occur to me that this was still going to be too much of a good thing, especially for someone without a place to store food. I just wasn’t thinking.
When I got to the aforementioned parking lot, there was a different gentleman there. I asked if he would like some Chinese food – “still hot” – and he appreciatively accepted. I gave him one of the packages and drove on.
This was when a crazy thought hit me: go see your friend D. I don’t know from where that thought originated, but my brain believed it to be insane. In fact, my brain so vehemently disagreed with this thought that I drove in the opposite direction of D’s place. And I drove. And I drove. Pretty soon I gave in and headed over to D’s store, still unsure of myself.
When I got there, I told D I had this extra food from lunch and for some reason I thought she might want it. And then I asked her if that was too weird or offensive. She responded by hugging me. She told me a lot had hit the proverbial fan that morning and she was closing shop early. She had been trying to figure out what to do for dinner for a couple of folks so that she could take a breather and try to set a few things right on her own that night. I had shown up with said dinner and had taken that task off her plate. She gave me a co-cola for the road, hugged me again and we parted.
I don’t usually give money to people on the street. Rarely, in fact. But I do sometimes ask if the person would like to either accompany me into a shop for some food or have me buy them something and bring it out. I have never – not once – been turned down. I’ve purchased and given everything from sandwiches and fried chicken to milk, cereal and fruit. In a world where I often have too much to eat, it is humbling to see just how little some souls have on which to survive.
So that’s how I ended up looking for a homeless gentleman. But it doesn’t explain the lightning bolt telling me to go see my friend. Truth is, I don’t think I can explain that one. And I don’t have to. What I want to do is pay more attention each time the Universe sends those seemingly random messages. Sure, if I hadn’t gone to my friend’s, she wouldn’t have wondered why. She wouldn’t have given me a second thought (nor a first one, for that matter). But that’s not the point. It wasn’t about me. I was just the help conduit, if you will. More accurately, I was the Chinese delivery gal. And, on Leap Day, I was happy to oblige.