Strangers

To this day, I don't know her name. 

Or his. 

But I have been blessed in my life many times over by the kindness of strangers, and these two come to mind. 

Several years ago when I was in seminary, I made a trip the next state over to attend a retreat class. The weather was rough when it was getting time to go home, and my car got blown off the road several times in a 30-mile stretch: -18 degree windchill, 70 mph winds (gusts over 80). Near white-out conditions. I had gotten permission to leave the retreat a few hours early so that I wasn't navigating this in the dark, but it wasn't much help. I had no control over my car, and I knew it. 

I pulled off at the rest area. 40 miles in either direction from anywhere. No maps with me. An old, "dumb" phone that couldn't help me. Actually, I was still counting my minutes at that time, trying to balance calling for help and racking up extra charges. 

One of the state employees happened to come into the area at the time I was there, and he found me crying on the single little bench in the tiniest of little spaces inside this small shelter - barely warmer than outside, but warmer nonetheless. And he took the time to talk with me. Even offered me half of his lunch. 

An hour or so later, I had found a ride through the family of a new friend from the retreat. They were going to be able to get me the 40 miles to the next town, where my mom and her friend were already on their way to help me get home. I was just too rattled to get back behind the wheel. I just couldn't do it. 

So a couple of hours after that, I found myself at a Cracker Barrel in a somewhat-busy city. Out by the interstate. Waiting another few hours after that for my ride. 

I quietly explained to the staff what was going on, what the circumstances were, and they found me a quiet corner where I could plug my phone in to charge. I spent those couple of hours wandering around the old country store and sitting quietly in my corner, reading a book, passing the time, until my mom called to let me know she was close...and she was hungry. So I asked the staff for a table for three. 

They sat me at a decent-sized table by myself, but it was taking a bit longer for my rescue to arrive than previously discussed, and at some point, a woman at a small table by herself looked over and struck up a conversation. She explained that she was alone tonight, too, and I told her I had been alone all day, but I was looking forward to not being alone any minute now. I told her about my day, about the storm, about just being too shaken to do much else. 

And she invited me over to her table. 

By the time my mom and her friend arrived, I was sitting at a small table with a complete stranger, talking about life and getting my heart steadied. I stopped shaking for the first time in hours and relaxed a little bit. This complete stranger, who knew nothing at all about me, was somehow able to use her presence to convince me that things were going to be okay. To reassure me that I was going to be okay. 

With one simple invite from an empty table to a full one. 

So for the second time in one day, a stranger had offered to feed me. And that day, that day that I knew I would never forget because of the storm, became a day I will never forget for an entirely different reason. 

And it became the day I understood the gift of inviting someone to my table, no matter how small it sometimes feels. 

Because with the two of us here, this little table is somehow completely full.