The Kindness of Stangers

Last night as I was in the last 20 minutes of the cooking dinner, pasta with leeks, peas and sausage in a sauce, there was a loud knock on the front door. Kids and dog went running to investigate followed by the inevitable "MMMooooommmmmmm". Turning the burners down I grumbled my way to the front door. Probably more annoying Mormons, I thought to myself. And sure enough, there they were. Two of the cleanest cut young men imaginable. Black pants, white button down shirts and black wool jackets. Big smiles from both. A quick smile quickly followed by a frown from me. The brush off took this then a minute. And I did feel rather bad when I shut the door and one of them was still talking. It felt rude but I was not about to discuss Jesus becoming my personal savior or the merits of my chosen church versus theirs. Not last night. The kids had been at each others throats all day and I was focused on feeding them and getting them into bed as soon as possible.

Burners back on, I continued to cook. And think. About a time, long ago when my then boyfriend and I were riding our bicycles across the country and found ourselves wet, cold and hungry in the town of Sugar City, Idaho. A 10 year old boy out riding his bike found us huddled in the town park and invited us home for dinner. He never checked with his mother. He just knew that not only would there be enough food but that we would be welcomed. And we were. I have long since forgotten the family name but I do remember that they were Mormon and had what seemed to me to be 500 children. Because of the kindness of strangers we were fed, dry and warm for the first time in days. And very, very grateful.

Last night, as these memories flooded my consciousness, I found myself running out into the dark, cold night. Was I too late? Were they gone? No, I spotted them down the block and took off at a run yelling "Boys! Boys!". They finally heard me and turned around. I couldn't see their faces but I knew by the way they were holding their bodies that they were getting ready to run themselves. A crazy Yankee was running at them yelling. As I drew nearer I promised that I wasn't going to accost them. After I caught my breath I asked them if they were hungry. They nodded cautiously. "I have a deal for you. I would like to invite you to eat dinner with my family...on one condition. You may not proselytize to my children. Agreed?" Their reservations fled, their smiles returned and they eagerly nodded their agreement.

My kids were confused and delighted to find the two strange teenage boys in our kitchen. Elder Dunn and Elder Warren were introduced to my herd. A tour of my very messy house was given while I threw more pasta into the pot and finished dinner. I started to apologize for the mess but they both assured that they came from large families themselves and were no strangers to a cluttered home.

Dinner was served, the candles lit and grace said. They ate as only hungry teenagers can, with gratitude and a kind of frenzied restraint. Both had seconds. It was a lovely meal. Both were well spoken, courteous and patient with my children. They held true to their word but did ask questions about our church which my children were more then happy to answer. A little reverse proselytizing never hurts. They now know more about the Unitarian Universalist Church then most people. My children did me proud. And we all agreed that it was about community, tolerance and love. About trying to lead a moral and ethical life. Turns out that we were on the same page after all.

Bed time drew near and it was time to say good-bye. They asked if I knew of any volunteer activities that I could recommend. Did I ever. They went away with the location of our local soup kitchen, essentials pantry and teen outreach center. I like to think that they also went away with a better impression of Yankees in general.

We all benefited from the encounter. And I have repaid a 23 year old debt.

Feels damn good.