My Friend

A few weeks ago I wrote about my unlikely friend, the Romanian woman who sells newspapers outside my grocery store in "Easter on a Bench" (see archives).  Like the rest of you, my schedule has been random and I haven't seen her in a few weeks.  I hadn't noticed how much time had passed until my Mom asked me about her.  Her words of inquiry challenged my thoughts to think on my friend.

This week, I've intentionally looked for her but to no avail.  Then, just yesterday, as I was waiting inside the grocery store to buy ... coffee, I saw her.  I've come to realize these brief meeting with her are moments the Father gives me to learn more about Himself.

As I stood there holding my espresso capsules, I began to watch how others passing on the street treated her.  I was not surprised to observe that most ignored her.  You see, Romanians have a reputation for being ... well ... Romanian.  She is poor, unkempt, doesn't speak the language, and is always hopeful that someone will forgo taking the 2 euro paper she sells and just give her the money.  I'm sure her living conditions are less than desirable but even so they are much better than they would be in Romania.  I know from her broken German she has children.  I'm not sure if there is a husband.  And because she is registered to sell the papers (the government gives permits to the poor to sell these) she must be living legally in Vienna.

The routine for buying groceries here is simple:  you buy your things, your things are pushed down the conveyor belt to the holding area, you pay, and you better have all your things out of the holding area in top speed because the process has already started with the next person in line. You will be scolded if you don't move your things ... quickly.  So, to reduce my blood pressure, I always just gather my things ASAP and move to the counter that's always provided to sort and put away in my bags.  As I was organizing my things in my bag, I snapped the above photo of my friend, doing her job of selling her papers.

When I greeted her - she smiled.  She's always prepared for me to ask her how she is feeling.  She pointed to her heart with an "OK".  Then frowned down at her papers.  This, I've come to learn is her way of saying not many people have bought that particular day.  Then she looked up to the sky ... it was cloudy and rainy.  These kind of days keep people on the move and in less than generous moods.  I gave her some change.

As always, I leave her with an "Alles gute" (Hope everything is good), touch her face, and mozy on my way.  As I left her, I realized I don't even know her name.

And then, I heard HIM whisper ... "But I do ... "

He knows my name,
christina