Daring to Talk to Strangers

My husband and I sat mesmerized by waves at Alki Beach. Our camp chairs were comfy as we watched children play, lovers stroll, and runners pass.

My eyes were drawn to a woman lugging a fully loaded ice chest down to a picnic table. After struggling to get it situated, she disappeared briefly, only to return with a carefully balanced cake and a few bags slung on her shoulder. She was not wasting any trips. After a few more back-and-forths, a birthday party was all set. She spread out a blanket and sat. She waited, all alone.

Some time passed. My curiosity got the best of me when I decided to take a short walk that involved passing her. “It looks like a party!” I ventured.

The woman’s response surprised me. She wiped away a few tears I hadn’t seen. “I was just crying because so many people have canceled. Today is my 35th birthday.”

I asked if I could sit with her. Most people would probably tell a stranger, “No, thanks. I’m fine.” But she said yes. Her welcoming invitation felt like one from Jesus. I joined her on the blanket.

As we sat looking at the sea, I asked about her life. Then I told her about mine.

New to the area, she was throwing herself a party, because family lived in a distant state. I admired her initiative and said so. “In this life, we have to make our own fun,” I theorized.

We shared a mutual exchange one might expect between two longtime friends. I connected with a stranger, who turned out to be hurting.

At last, someone arrived for the party, and the woman joyfully welcomed him. I said farewell and returned to my husband. “What? No cake?” he smiled. He knows I’m an extrovert with a sweet tooth.

As I sat down, another stranger walking past said, “I saw what you did. That was very kind.” Wow, I thought. She didn’t have to say that. She took a risk that I suspect most people wouldn’t take by addressing a stranger, which, of course, I had just done too. I knew if my children had been there, they would have been mortified by both of us.

What would you do if you weren’t afraid to appear foolish? To risk rejection? To hazard being labeled as interfering? To be called weird? To put ego second? To be frowned upon for talking to strangers?

Later during an Examen, I felt surprised as Catholic social teaching came to mind. The principle of solidarity requires concrete action to accompany others on their journeys, especially in sufferings. God made us for community, not isolation and individualism.

We are called to see people, to never take for granted our gifts (such as hospitality or longtime friends nearby), and to walk in heartfelt, compassionate solidarity with others. It’s not always easy. It can have consequences. Christ calls us to do it anyway.

In the Examen I saw Christ in the woman who dared throw herself a party. Jesus sets the best table imaginable at every Mass and sits waiting. Who will come to his Eucharistic party?

When we dare to listen for Christ, we see and notice things that motivate us to act out of simple kindness. Good Samaritans attend to people suffering wounds of the heart. A gentle word to someone unknown could compel someone else to thank us for our random act of kindness. Goodness is contagious. It might cause ripples of welcoming presence, like waves on a shore.