John Gettings: Nothing More, Nothing Less

“Excuse me,” a man blurted out from behind me as I stepped off the curb and into a dark, slushy parking lot.

Although another overnight snowstorm had pummeled the area and delayed the opening of my office that day, it was dark again now and after a morning of shoveling and afternoon of working I was ready to head home—just as soon as I remembered where I parked my . . .

“Could you give me a ride to the train station?” the man abruptly continued.

I peered back over my shoulder just in time to see the man ease himself off a curb near the bus stop and walk with a slight limp toward me. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, and through his pockets he was holding together an unbuttoned London Fog–style raincoat. I immediately recognized him as someone I had never seen before in my life.

“I’d heard that the busses might not be running tonight because of all the snow. Could you give me a ride to the Beverly train station?”

Now, the car ride from where we were standing to the train station would take little more than five minutes, and the tangent wouldn’t take me very far off my route home. But those very practical thoughts were quickly replaced: “What does he really want?” “What’s my excuse?” “Is he trying to steal my car?” “Is this a scam? “Is this the thing I read about in that email forward I got last week?” “Should I do this?”

I thought it was an odd request. (Although, in hindsight, “hitchhiking” in a parking lot—when drivers are outside of their cars—makes a lot more sense to me.) And although I know we’re reminded in the Bible not to neglect strangers and show love and compassion for them, a lot of people these days, like me, have been conditioned to consider the worst possible outcomes first.

So during my frantic search for an answer, I decided to not only use my instincts, but also put a little trust in God. I was reminded to act responsibly but think compassionately in situations like these.

This night in particular I knew I wasn’t going to end up in the police blotter, out a nine-year-old Honda, or on the Internet. I was just going to do something nice for someone I didn’t happen to know.

Nothing more. Nothing less.