Five Strangers, Eight Minutes and a Dog

This year we would not exchange gifts - not because we could not afford them but because we were already blessed with ample riches in a world aching with need.  I agreed with the spirit of the decree, balked at the lack of at least a symbolic exchange. After all, this evening changed everything. At least, I thought, I can offer a story, share a poem, write something. But with Christmas Eve nearly upon us, I was empty-handed.

The day was quickly slipping away. I gave up my push for meaning. Gave up trying to get what I wanted. Gave up my way and accepted that it would be whatever unfolded. Before starting dinner I made the decision: I would slip out to get gas in the car, put air in the leaking tire and wash the windshield - one tiny gift of service hidden amid the usual tasks of the evening. No time to find a story but it was something at least. I had to hurry to do even that.

Looking up from kneeling to fill the tire a few minutes later, I was startled to discover that in the brief moment my back had been turned, night had overtaken day. Disoriented, I climbed into the car and started to pull into traffic. I’d be home in a minute and get dinner going before anyone would notice I’d been gone. At least that was my plan.

An unbroken flow of drivers equally eager to get back to their own families and friends on this special night blocked my path. So I turned at the corner to take the back route. The utter darkness of the street startled me. The streetlamps were not on yet. No lights were. I proceeded carefully. As I crossed the first intersection, I noticed two cars pulled over at an odd angle. The passenger’s door of the car by the far curb was open. A woman moved in the dim interior. As I turned my head I saw a form shift in the recesses of a doorway. A man as black as the night, a shadow in the shadows, pointed toward something. I passed them both and was half way down the street before I could assess what I’d witnessed. Certainly something was wrong. Did they need my help? Should I go back? Was it safe? Yes, I answered to all and carefully slipped the car into reverse.

When I reached the building where the man had stood, I rolled down the window on passenger side. “Are you okay? Do you need help?” I asked into the night. He appeared, stooped down and spoke.

“Thanks. It’s okay. The lady’s lost her dog.” He stood again and towering over my car called out to her.

“…No, she was going that way and darted between the cars.” I then realized the only thing he would have stolen was my fear.

“What does the dog look like?” His face re-appeared, the glitter around his eyes sparkled like stars against a desert sky, and he smiled.

“Apparently she’s a little golden Shar-pei,” and over the car, “…No, Mame, we’ll find her. Don’t you worry.” In my rear view mirror, I saw the shiny bows on packages filling the seats of his hastily abandoned vehicle.

I set out again. Two long blocks ahead a steady stream of headlights once more blocked my way. “God, please help them find the dog.” I thought, realizing suddenly with a sinking feeling that finding her would be impossible. The street was completely dark now, narrow, cluttered with cars everywhere.  A million places for a terrified little animal to hide.  My heart sank. Christmas Eve. No time to lose a pal. I closed my eyes overcome with sadness. The prayer rose from a well of grief. Please help them find the dog.

A moment later a break in the traffic in front of me revealed a disheveled girl kneeling out in the street directly across from me struggling to grasp a frightened little critter. Car lights reflected off her tattered vinyl coat. There on the ground she was trying to get hold of the collar.

Oh my God! “Is that your dog?” I yelled in disbelief.

“No, I heard the guy calling her.  She panicked. I saw her run the street.

I’ve got her  - I’m scared to pick her up!”

“Okay,..” my mind was racing.  “…just hold onto her. Can you do that?”

“Yeah! Sure.”

“I’ll get her owner,” I shouted. “Hold on to the dog. STAY RIGHT THERE!”

Great! My heart pounded. There was no way to turn around in this traffic. I was trapped. No way to get back. By the time I could get back he’d have moved on!  God please help me, I prayed. Suddenly a fellow in a long coat and a stark, bright white prayer cap emerged out of nowhere riding a bicycle. What?! Somehow he knew exactly what was going on.  In one sweeping movement he stepped off the bike and strode out into the intersection lifting it high over his head. It worked. The street cleared. While my Muslim “Moses” held off the cars, I obediently spun mine around and charged back up the street.

I flashed my brights, hoping the guy up ahead would get it. Please don’t let them leave! Please don’t let them leave! I swerved to dodge a line of stopped vehicles. To heck with it! I decided with a gulp and raced up the wrong side weaving between parked cars.

“I found her – the dog!” I yelled out at the corner hoping someone would catch the message. Urgent voices rose and then grew calmer as the news rippled stranger to stranger through the darkness.

“She found the dog!” self-proclaimed Samaritans repeated across the night. Voices echoed from hidden recesses. “They found the dog!” I spilled out the directions to the now familiar tall form and gestured over my shoulder where far down the street against the black sky one could still clearly make out the white prayer cap above a river of lights. Mission accomplished, I turned west finally to head home.

Moments later I slipped into the house and started setting the holiday table. My mind still reeled. Then I noticed the clock. Eight minutes had gone by since I’d left the gas station. EIGHT MINUTES. In that brief handful of running sand a wondrous weave of strangers had been pulled together seamlessly to rescue one old woman and a dog - and then - each blessed – we had been released to go on our way on this holiest of nights.

I smiled to myself – and stepped off the Bethlehem Express - my gift still spinning and warm.