The other day I decided to take a rambling walk along the Sidney waterfront, rather than deadhead my flower beds. It was a fine sunny day with a light wind that made the day seem perfect. I stopped frequently for minutes on end, from one location to another, to peer over the railings to see what I could see. I was hoping to see starfish since I had heard that they are under attack by a nasty bug of some kind that it turning them into mush. I saw nary a one, alive or mushy.
What I did see was all manner of small sea life: teeny dark crabs and little red crabs, scuttling sideways in the shallows. And there were schools of minnows, flitting in the water about ten feet from the shore. I have no idea what they were but it didn't matter - I just enjoyed watching them.
And there were other people out walking and talking, sometimes with a dog or two, and even some with small children who skipped ahead of the adults, shouting out their discoveries. Most exchanged hellos, and a few wanted to know what I found so absorbing in the water. Some joined me in peering over the edge to observe as well.
Sea birds were in short supply, although I did see some English sparrows enjoying dust baths. That sight always amuses me. And I did see one solitary great blue heron, flapping its way slowly, making its peculiar croaking call.
At times, however, I found myself staring out at nothing in particular. And then I remembered that I was walking alone - Joe was not with me. He has been gone for over two years, yet it still catches me off-guard. The trigger this time was probably seeing our grandchildren a few days earlier, and wishing that Joe were here to rejoice in their lives.
I could feel tears surfacing and tried to hold them in. And I was managing it, by focussing on the wonderful life we had together, in Vancouver where we first met at Central Presbyterian Church, and in Sidney when we retired here ten years ago this August. And I thought about how lucky I am to have such loving family and friends, near and far.
But I still felt very sad.
And then I heard a voice ask "Are you okay?"
I looked up into the face of a stranger, a slightly bearded man about my age. He was casually dressed (this is Sidney after all) and wore a carved wolf medallion on a leather cord around his neck.
I replied that I was fine, I was just watching the little crabs. (I did not want to say that I was feeling sorry for myself.) I thanked him for stopping to ask.
I guess I was not that convincing.
The man then asked "Would it be all right if I shared a prayer with you?" And he reached out his right hand for mine. Without a second thought, I gave mine to him. And then he prayed aloud, quietly, as if he and I were alone in the world. They were simple and familiar words, asking God to be with me, to comfort me, and to watch over me, now and forever, in Jesus' name. I echoed his "Amen".
Then with a sweet smile, he said goodbye. I barely had time to say thank you, and he was on his way. And then my tears came, peacefully.
" ... Christ in hearts of all who love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger."
St. Patrick's Breastplate / I bind unto myself today (#276 in Book of Praise)
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