a chance meeting with an angel at the food bank...

an angel at a foodbank? perhaps that's the last place one would imagine such an encounter. i'm not talking about the volunteers. oh sure, they are indeed angels in their own right. i'm talking about one of the visitors. an elderly man, homeless and hungry. and getting very close to needing a wheelchair due to debilitating pain, his best friend at the moment seemingly to be his sturdy cane.

"hello girl, how you doing today?" he asked me. if it hadn't been for his stained and much too small t-shirt and slight body odor, i would have thought he was santa claus. aside from a full beard and round belly, he had a twinkle in his eyes, a joyful, albeit mischevious merriment to him. however, looking deeper, i could see deep pain behind that sparkle. the kind of pain that spoke to me and said this man had seen a lot of heartache in his life. a lot of disappointment. i was tempted to ask him if his life had turned out as he thought, but i instead decided to smile.

"i'm doing ok," i said.

"see this here cane?" he asked me, tapping it on the floor.

"uh huh," i said.

"this cane here is what's keeping me out of a wheelchair." sensing his need to talk, i simply nodded my head, my brows in a frown indicating my growing concern and compassion for this stranger.

"my body was crushed awhile back," he said. "got arthritis all over my body. doc says soon i may be paralyzed. didn't like hearing that one, i tell ya. told the doc so. told him don't tell me i may be paralyzed unless you know for sure." he paused, then added with a smile, that twinkle reappearing for a brief moment, "i tell people straight up what i think and how it is." with that he laughed as did i.

i listened at this man shared with me stories of his life. i watched the sadness in his eyes as he told me the ladies who had left him because of his physical condition. i watched the sadness in his eyes as he talked about his experience being homeless and living in shelters. he is currently living with a friend, not sure what his plans are. this friend is all he has at the moment, the only thing keeping him from being on the streets.

"no way will you get me back in them shelters," he says.

"how come?" i asked.

"when you live with the kind of pain i do, sometimes you gotta do what you can to ease the pain. i smoke the dope at times to make me feel better. they don't like that."

"ah," i said, nodding. i've often thought about that, the rules shelters have. strict rules about no alcohol or drugs. no room for flexibility. meeting this man is example enough that there should be.

he got quiet again. i observed him, watching his eyes look up at the brief moment of sunlight that was streaming in through the window.

"my husband lives with chronic pain," i said, breaking the silence.

"oh yeah?" he asked, his eyes and body language showing sincere interest in wanting to know more.

"the doctor says he has fibromyalgia, which is really just a blanket diagnosis for chronic pain of unknown origin." i said, releasing a deep sigh that surprised me some. i don't often stop and think about my husband's pain and how it affects me. i told him the areas on my husband's body that hurts, how it affects his life. the fatigue he deals with on a daily basis. the numerous doctors he's seen, the blood tests, the scans, etc. etc.

whew. suddenly i wanted to lean on that stick!

"yeah, them doctors sometimes need a kick in the ass, don't they? let them know they aren't god. be nice to hear a doctor say 'i don't know'." he said, rolling his eyes.

"no shit!" i blurted out. he laughed, one of those belly laughs, causing me to think of santa claus again.

"you sticking by him then? being in all that pain?" he asked with a curious look.

i was kind of taken back by the question.

"of course! why in the world would i leave him because he lives with pain?" i said, almost defensively.

i looked at him and i thought he was going to cry. he asked me for a hug. i obliged.

"you're a wonderful girl for saying that. you know how many women have left me because of my physical problems?" he asked, sounding choked up. i just nodded.

it was his turn to pick up his food. he took his place in line. i could overhear him as he talked with the food bank staff. please and thank you and no ma'am and yes ma'am were a regular part of his vocabulary. on more than one occasion, i heard the female volunteers laugh.

after his food box had been put together, he turned to leave, passing me in line once again. i stepped forward to open the door for him. he turned towards me, that twinkle again in his eye.

"thank you sweetheart. i sure enjoyed talking to you," he said.

"me too," i said. "you take good care of yourself."

"i will and you do the same." he hesitated and for a moment there i thought yet once again that he was going to cry. he looked at me and said, "and you make sure and hang in there with your husband."

and with that, he was gone. if only he had known of some of the recent events that had transpired between my husband and myself. for reasons not having to do with his physical pain, my husband and i had been threatening one another with divorce. i'm not sure if our problems are shared by all and we are just more vocal when we are hurt and frustrated. i'm not sure if our threats come from truth or from fear. but i do know i had been asking for angels to come into my life and help me figure out what to do.

when he said those words, "and you make sure you hang in there with your husband," it was as though a little 'ping' went to my heart, to that place where my truth, my wisdom exists. i had received my angel. and he had come in the most unusual of forms, and i had met him in the most unusual of places.

nina