A street angel in disguise
Once upon a snowy evening, two nights before Christmas and many years ago, a young street person huddled alone outside a Victoria grocery store. Extending a gloveless hand in silent supplication to passersby, her raw, frozen fingers trembled in the biting wind.
To their credit, those who noticed her, dug deeply into their pockets only to discover a solitary debit or credit card — with no accompanying spare change. One man discovered a $20 bill tucked tightly into his wallet, but was loath to give it away. What would this street person actually do with his money? She might waste it on drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes! Shoving it back into his coat pocket, he strode through the automated store doors, whistling a tuneless version of Jingle Bells.
Pulling into the busy parking lot, an old car shuddered to a stop. Its fuel gauge hovered on empty. The driver, a single mother, sighed and quickly ran through a mental shopping list of what was needed to tide her little family over the next few days, including gas and payment for the babysitter. Thank goodness they were invited out for Christmas dinner. It was the first Christmas since her mom passed away.
On her way into the store, she noticed the young street person. Pricked with pity that she hadn’t money to spare for this girl, the woman paused instead, and said hello with a friendly smile. The young street person’s dark, fathomless eyes regarded her briefly in surprise.
The woman quickly purchased her family’s sparse groceries. As she wheeled her buggy toward the till, her thoughts rested on the unfortunate person outside. Suddenly, she whipped her buggy around, and tore through the store aisles tossing in practical items that someone homeless could easily use. So what if this would throw her own budget off, there was someone worse off than she was — someone cold and hungry outside.
She had the cashier bag up the groceries separately, and quickly left the store. The street person was trudging away from the store through the icy snow-covered parking lot, toward the main road. The woman ran slipping and sliding to her car, and flung the groceries into the back seat. The car sputtered and lurched as she exited the parking lot and drove up beside the street girl. Leaning across the seat, she rolled the passenger side window down and called out, asking the girl if she needed a ride.
The street girl stopped walking. Her eyes carefully searched the woman’s face. She nodded, and hopped into the front seat. The car suddenly reeked of unwashed clothes and humanity.
Highly sensitive to smells, the woman tried not to gag. “I’m Jane,” she choked out. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Nina. Thanks for the ride. Turn left at the next light.” They did, and the car fishtailed a bit. “Do you have a warm shelter, Nina?” “I’ll be very comfortable tonight, thanks for asking.” Nina's low, melodic voice paused and she directed the car down another side street, indicating a place to stop, across from several houses twinkling with Christmas lights. The snow was deeper here, blanketing all in pristine white.
The car lurched to a crunchy halt in the snow. Nothing had travelled this way for a long time. It was starkly beautiful. Nina opened the door and stepped outside. “Thank you, Jane.”
Jane cleared her throat. “I, uh, I bought you some groceries. …” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
Nina was silent, sighed heavily and said, “I’m sorry. I cannot accept these from you, Jane.”
“Then, then,” Jane racked her brain, “Could you please accept this gift — in memory of my mom?”
“That I can, and gladly will do,” nodded Nina.
Jane flung the back car door open, shoved aside her own grocery bag, and hauled out Nina’s two big bags of groceries. She placed them shyly into Nina’s waiting arms, and with a lump in her throat whispered, “Happy Christmas Nina!”
Nina inclined her head graciously. “Thank you Jane. May God bless you, and your mother … Rebekkah.” Nina turned and slowly walked away, feet crunching in the snow.
Feeling a warm glow, Jane put the car in reverse, and backed up carefully. Two seconds later she slammed her foot on the brakes and leapt out of the parked car, engine running. “I never told Nina mom’s name! How did she know? Nina! Wait!”
But Nina had disappeared. With the car headlights shining, Jane easily followed Nina’s fresh tracks in the snow. However, about 15 feet away from the car, Nina’s footprints ceased completely, disappearing into nowhere.
Dumbfounded, Jane walked back to the car. It was late and the babysitter would be wondering where she was. Jane backed up, and began the drive home. She glanced down at the dashboard.
Astoundingly, the gas tank indicator read as full! Then, hearing a rustling papery sound from behind, Jane turned to see three huge bags of groceries bumping merrily together on the back seat. …
“Thanks, Nina,” Jane whispered. “Happy Christmas!”
Barbara Bruce As told to me by a friend who wishes to remain anonymous