The kindness of strangers

 My recent hospital adventure brought to mind a long-ago memory, a memory of the first time I was a hospital patient. I was three-years-old and having my tonsils removed.

Memory is a tricky thing. We can’t know if we’ve really got the details right, especially if the memory comes from childhood. But while I’m uncertain of the details, some of the images and feelings have the ring of truth. I know it happened.

In those days, all kids had their tonsils removed. It was like a rite of passage and most families complied. So I don’t know if it was illness that took my parents to the hospital or if it was just time to do what everyone did. Anyway I remember my mommy settling me in my room, helping me put on my jammies, and getting me into the bed. Hospital rules were strict with enforced visiting times. No overnight stays for parents. Mom kissed me, told me she’d see me tomorrow, and left.

Alone. I don’t know if the incident I remember was the night before the operation or the night after. The timing is hazy. I just know I woke up in the dark room, all alone and frightened. It was the middle of the night. I began to cry.

Then she was there. The Nurse. She stood over my bed, then bent down and patted me, speaking comforting words. The next thing I knew I was in her arms and she was giving me a tour of the hospital. I remember her walking down the halls, explaining things to me. And then we stopped before this big window and looked in on all these sleeping newborn babies. That part I remember well. All the time the Nurse was talking softly to me.

After a while (an hour? five minutes?), she carried me back to my room, put me back to bed, and I went to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, Mommy was there. I got to eat ice cream.

How much do the images in my memory reflect reality? How many have I fabricated over time? I don’t know. What I am convinced of is the fear and loneliness, the Nurse, being held and comforted, the window of babies, and the kindness of a stranger. I look back and I don’t feel the fear; I remember the love.

Fast-forward some forty years. Hal and I had been on a tour of Latin American graduate programs in mission, prior to setting up our own program in a university in Bolivia. We had just been in Medellín, Colombia and were in the airport in Bogotá, ready to fly home. I always carried enough cash to handle details like the ubiquitous airport tax, required before boarding the plane. Sitting there in the waiting room, I took out my wallet to extract the $20.00 needed. But my wallet was empty.

I experienced a moment of terror, which soon settled into mere panic. We had been robbed while still in Medellín. Hal had no cash on him. We had a credit card, so we tried the different shops in the mall to see if anyone could give us cash for credit. No luck. No mercy. Of course no one would accept a check. I even tried selling my watch. Didn’t work. We knew no one in Bogotá we could call on for help.

We knew we could not get on the plane without the cash. The United States was not currently popular in Latin America and there would be no mercy from officials.

We sat there in the waiting room praying and trying to figure it out, obviously distressed. A woman approached us, looking concerned. She sat beside us and said she had observed our distress. She asked us why, wanting to know if there was anything she could do. We explained our dilemma to this stranger. The woman then opened her pursed and proceeded to give us $20.00.

That is simply not done in a Latin American airport. Ever. We were stunned and, having no other option, accepted the money, with many expressions of gratitude. We took her address and I later sent her a thank you card, but I never received an answer. She remains a stranger to this day.

Mercy from God coming through strangers.

Those were two outstanding incidents, but I think of many other gentle expressions: a friendly cashier who asks how our day is going; a smile from a passerby on a busy street; a kind receptionist in an office; a patient waitress. I’m sure you can think of other examples.

I ask myself how friendly I am to people I come in contact with everyday. Hal and I follow Pete Grieg’s devotional app, “Lectio 365,” and part of the closing prayer is “Jesus, help me give myself away to others, being kind to everyone I meet.” The challenge is to remember that prayer throughout the day.

I’m impressed with one of the laws that God gave the new nation of Israel: “When an alien (stranger) lives with you in your land, do not mistreat him. The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the Lord your God” (Leviticus 19:33-24).

That’s strong. Would to God the leaders in our land followed God’s law of kindness to strangers and aliens (immigrants). Would to God I followed this precept more closely myself.

Lord, have mercy on us all.