3/5/2001

Early last week, we had a blast of winter. It produced a few inches of snow and threatened to close our schools, and we were fortunate that we didn’t get rain with it, or we could easily have had a crippling ice storm. It was that cold for a few days.

As I have said, I live in the heart of The City. I have a “commercial” style glass door at ground level which I unlock and relock each time I pass through it. The building is old enough that the door doesn’t quite sit square, and the changing of the seasons makes the deadbolt hard to drive home. I usually have to juggle things so that I can grab the handle with one hand and pull with main force while I turn the bolt home with the other hand.

Most mornings when I leave from work, The City is just waking up. Usually there is someone passing by at about the time I step outside and wrestle with the door. This citizen and myself exchange whatever greetings seem appropriate for the mood of the day and the mood of ourselves, and the exchange passes into history to be forgotten.

Tuesday morning was quite cold. It was cold enough that I wore a jacket out of the building. I keep a jacket in the car, just in case, but I usually don’t feel that the 20 feet to my car warrents an extra layer of clothing. Except today, this particular Tuesday. There was enough of a breeze and chill enough air, that a jacket could make a difference.

I stepped out of my doorway and began tugging on the door. A matronly woman of some years was bundled up, moving south down the sidewalk, to either the retirement apartments or the Pancake House, or to who knows where. I saw her from the corner of my eye as I concentrated on locking the door as quickly as possible.

“Good morning!” she chimed, with an uncommon tone of sincerity and warmth. “Mornin'”, I smiled, working the lock home. I turned toward her as I turned from the door to my car.

“I see this morning you finally decided to wear a coat!” I saw it in her face and heard it in her voice, that warm, loving, scolding pride of a mother who catches her children following her advice. I looked at her with a caught expression, dumbfounded with the unexpected truth bubbling from a stranger.

Then, I cowered my head with mock shame, unable to hide the humor in my voice as I said “yeeeesss….” and scampered to my car. She walked on with a smile and the knowledge that it takes a village to raise a child, and that she was still doing her part.

As for myself, I had another simple reminder that God loves me and protects me always.

…. and WATCHES me….