A-Musing

10pm.... Tired.... Still at the office..... Must have some chocolate. And milk. Lock the office. Walk across Lord St to the Shell garage. I notice a man shuffling away into the dark. I peer through the night at his shoes. He looks homeless. Do my shopping - chocolate, milk.Step back out into the filling areas. There he is, straight ahead, face covered in gravel rash. Raw meat looking at me. His eyes are large, rimmed with red, watering, and blue. Pale blue. There is a blob of green pus on the inside corner of his eye.“Have you got some money?” he asks.“I’ll buy you some food,” I say.He shakes his head. I stand firm.“Must be something you’ll eat?”“I’ll eat cereal,” he says.I want to show him some respect.“Come with me,” and I lead the way back into the bright neon shop.As we enter, a man and woman in business clothes turn to me, their faces contorting.“You can’t bring him in .. what do you think you’re doing?.. don’t give him.....”. They are almost shouting. Their eyes are glaring, they are confronted, hating us. If those eyes could spit....! What are they afraid of? I have crossed some unspoken boundary.I walk peacefully across their line of sight. The man with blue eyes bends over a shelf and grabs a supersize cereal collection and a bag of white sugar. I feel upset - he’s eating junk!“Like a pie?” I ask.“Don’t eat meat,” he says and crosses himself ostentatiously - a huge cross, top of head to navel, across both shoulders.“Like some milk?” I ask. He shakes his head and confronts a quiet Asian businessman with a kind face who comes in the door, holds out his hand for money. The businessman makes a quiet gesture with his hand. As I pay for the cereal, Blue Eyes goes back outside to beg.I walk out, he is standing there, face so wounded.“What is your name?” I say.“Naphtali,” he says. I am excited.“One of the original tribes of Israel!” I say. We shake hands firmly. “Yes, I’m Jewish”, he says.As we stand together, the Asian businessman comes by with a smile, puts a $10 note and a few coins in Naphtali’s hand. He is gentle, discreet. Naphtali leaves me, hurrying back into the bright lights of the shop.What a large barrier is made by a wounded face and red-rimmed eyes. What were they afraid of - that he might want their treasure?Perhaps they were afraid he might want something more important - heavenly treasure: their help, their compassion, their understanding, a connection - a connection they couldn’t control that might be uneconomical, messy, disturbing, unsafe. Just like love.Judith Dowson