CAN YOU REMEMBER
THE LAST TIME SOMEONE WAS
A CARING CATALYST
TO YOU.            .            .            ?

I’ve been reading Parker Palmer since my Seminary days back in the late 70’s but never this piece:

[Before the internet, “War and Peace” was regarded as a long book at 1,200 pages. Today, many regard a 900-word story like this one as “too long to read,” especially for a blog, but I’m posting it anyway because it’s a story I’ll never forget, it’s about trusting and caring for one another, and we need a lot more of that.]

Ever have a bad dream where you’ve gone to a meeting in a strange city, and when it’s time to drive home you can’t find your car? That happened to me last week—not in a dream but in real life! To cut to the chase, I got “lost” not because I’m getting addled but because I got bad info and bad guidance about this city’s welter of parking garages. So the story begins with me looking for my car in the wrong garage…

I walked around in this massive five-story parking ramp for 15 minutes before I realized I needed help. I tried to hail the next two cars that came by, both SUVs, both driven by white men age 40 or so. They saw me, but they blew on by without slowing down. Then I saw a slight Hispanic woman in her late 20s about to get into her car.

“Excuse me,” I said from a distance, “I hate to bother you, but I need help. I can’t find my car.” Immediately she turned around and said, “I understand. This place is so confusing, and all the downtown garages look alike.” Walking toward me, she said, “Let me see your parking ticket.” She studied it for a while, then said, “I can’t figure this out. But I know some folks who work here. I’ll go upstairs and find someone who can help you. Just wait here.”

After about 15 minutes, this Angel returned with a black woman who works for the parking authority, a take-charge woman of about 35 who quickly sized up the problem: “You’re in the wrong garage,” she said. “I just got off work, and I’m going to take you where you need to be. It’s not easy to find.” I expressed my deep gratitude to Angels #1 and #2, and as the first one drove away, the second Angel said “Follow me.” We headed out, and soon found ourselves walking into the start of a sudden and ferocious storm, with rain and winds gusting up to 60 mph.

We walked for a while in a hilly part of downtown, bracing ourselves against the wind and increasingly fierce rain. After about 10 minutes of this, Angel #2 saw that this 85 year-old white guy was having some trouble catching his breath. She grabbed my arm to help steady me and said, “Let’s get to that restaurant at the top of this hill. You can shelter there while I find your car and bring it back here. All I need are your keys and your parking ticket.”

The restaurant manager, a white man age 50 or so, was out front watching the storm come in—he said I was welcome to wait inside. I thanked him, then turned to Angel #2, saying “Here are my car keys and my parking ticket. Thank you so, so much.” She went on her way and I went into the restaurant as the storm wind and the rain intensified, grateful for the rest.

I had waited maybe 20 minutes when the manager came over to me. “No sign of your car yet?” “Still waiting,” I said. He looked at me through narrowed eyes and said, “Did you give her your car keys?” “Yes,” I said, “and my parking ticket, too.” He shook his head slightly, said nothing, but the look on his face as he walked away said “Sucker.”

My wait continued while the rain came down. A very long twenty minutes later, I saw my car pull up in front of the restaurant. I ran out into the rain shouting “Thank you! Thank you!” to Angel #2, my arms wide open. She got out of the car with a big grin on her face, saying, “Have a great evening!” Then we both started laughing almost uncontrollably.

We were getting drenched, but I was not done. I told her again how deeply grateful I was and praised her generosity. Then I emptied my wallet ($80) and said, “I know you didn’t do this for money. But you’ve been so very generous, please let me thank you this way, too.” She tried to refuse the money, still laughing, saying “No, no, this was not about money!” But I persisted, and finally she took the bills I was trying to put in her hand.

Then she said words I will never forget: “Do you know what’s most meaningful to me about all this?” I looked at her expectantly… “What means the most,” she replied, “is that you trusted me.”

I don’t know if she could tell that the raindrops on my face had been joined by tears…

We parted with more laughter and a little fist-bump, then went our separate ways. Later that night, I got home not only with my car but with a story I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.

The next time some fascist fool tells me that people of color are “poisoning the blood of America,” I know what I’ll say: “You’re wrong about that. What’s poisoning this country is people like you. Feel free to live your cramped, fearful life if you’d like, but we’re not going to let you diminish life for the rest of us.”

Pass the word! And when you can, practice random acts of caring and random acts of trust. We’ll all be the richer for it.
When was the last time SomeOne was a true Caring Catalyst to you or…
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE A TRUE CARING CATALYST FOR ANOTHER.                  .                  .

Psssssssssssssssssssst.          .          .if you’ve waited another second or for just the right time,  for the right person, you’ve waited much too long!