the kindness of strangers

Our society is paranoid about strangers. Parents warn their children not to talk to strangers; we worry about stranger abduction. We have learned from the cautionary tale of Little Red Riding Hood to fear a wolf around every corner. As if that were not enough, we even inhabit physical bodies that are on alert against foreign bodies - always ready to protect against and reject anything not familiar, any foreign body.

But I suspect we all also know something about the kindness of strangers. And we all have
to rely upon the benevolence of others unknown to us many times in our lives. The experience often leaves us feeling humbled as well as grateful. We have received something we have not earned and often cannot repay. It is a kind of grace from an unexpected source.

Last week I was at the laundromat with my youngest daughter, waiting for a load to dry. I do have a washer and dryer, but sometimes I just get so far behind in my laundry that I just grab it all and take it to the Wash 'n Dry to get it over with in an hour and a half. I don't know if anyone enjoys the laundromat - I sure don't. But it's not the humidity and bleachy smell I find unpleasant, it's how out-of-place I always feel. Washing machines seem to be one of those sociological markers that connote middle class. I am always conscious of belonging to the privileged class - I'm at the laundromat because I want to be, not because I have to be. I wonder if other patrons can tell. I secretly hope I look a little different.

So, there we were, realizing that the laundromat always costs a lot more than I remembered, and we had washed more than we could afford to dry. (That sounds like it should be a cliche - like "bitten off more than he could chew", you know?) So, as we waited for two loads to tumble dry, a third sat crumpled and soggy in a basket on top of a washer. There were not many other people there, and none of us were chatting; I felt quite anonymous until a woman kindly asked, "Is that your basket?". I was afraid I had perhaps committed a laundromat faux pas and left it on top of her washing machine, but I realized she was just being helpful. "There's an empty dryer right next to mine." she pointed out.

I thanked her and admitted we had just run out of quarters and I would take that load home wet, when she began funbling around in her pockets for extra coins and offered to give me money for the dryer! I demurred, she insisted, and said, "Oh people have often helped me out when I needed it." And I realized she thought I was actually Out of Money - not just out- of- quarters- at- this- particular- moment.

I actually felt myself turn red as I accepted the coins. I knew I had a washer and dryer at home, and probably a lot more disposable income than she did. But I knew also that I would have been intolerably rude not to accept her generosity and make any explanation about why I did not really need the quarters. So she smiled and asked my little girl what her name was, offered that her own name was "Laurie," and walked out with her dry laundry.

It was an exchange that lasted perhaps two minutes, but it felt big to me. I realized what a snob I can be - that I was embarrassed to be mistaken for someone who can't afford to finish her laundry. And I was humbled to be the recipient of the kindness of a stranger.

As we contemplate moving to another culture I anticipate many situations where I will need to rely on the kindness of strangers. It has begun already - I have been emailing Malaysian homeschoolers with dozens of questions about where to look for housing, what to bring, what to expect by way of amenities. People have been so generous. I have received lengthy, detailed thoughtful replies which not only answer my questions but anticipate others I don't know enough to ask. I'm sure the authors of these letters are busy people with many claims on their time, but they took the time to respond to a stranger's request for help.

I expect to need lots of kind strangers as I try to find my way around a strange city, try to figure out how to shop in Malaysian markets, try to pay for my purchases in foreign currency, try to remember my rusty metric measurements. I am counting on the kindness of strangers to extend friendship to my children, to bear with us as we travel, to help me learn to cope with a tropical climate .

God commends such kindness to strangers, reminding us that we should not be forgetful to entertain strangers, because by doing so some have entertained angels unaware. It seems that whether we find ourselves upon the giving or receiving end we can expect to experience something of the grace of God in the kindness of strangers.