Twitchy

She was twitchy. Could not stop picking at a scab on her arm ("I got a bee bite" she told me, as if this was one more misery heaped upon her already unbearable load) or awkwardly playing with her pants. I was distracted by her constant state of motion, as she haltingly told me her situation that found her, in a Caribou parking lot, without a ride. A blown tire...on a large van...$300 to buy a new tire when she could get a can of fix-a-flat for $40...if she could only get a can of fix-a-flat...before her son the Saint Thomas student with no money of his own came to pick her up....couldn't I help? A ride? A can of fix-a-flat? Some money? Did she mention she worked 40 hours a week and could reimburse?"

She was so twitchy. Even as the constant motion distracted me, I was keenly aware of where I was, adjusting my laptop bag so the pockets were behind my back, eying if anyone else in the vicinity could step in and take this responsibility away from me. This wasn't just a person holding a sign in the intersection or someone thumbing a ride in their usual 10am spot on 61N. This was a woman, with a son and a name, and a shaky voice. I hemmed, I hawed, I tried to call my husband to see what I could do. Finally she just said, "do you have anything? Any money?" And I didn't. No cash. Negligible change in the dashboard drawer.

I said I was sorry, I didn't. And she turned and invoked the name used by the desperate and faithful alike "It'll be okay, Jesus'll find a way." And with that, she was walking to another family leaving Caribou, only to get turned away again.

"Jesus'll find a way..." kept echoing in my mind. My middle-class suburban distancing techniques came on full force in an attempt to distance myself from responsibility, from feeling, enabling me to drive by her and out onto the street. Rationalizations started flowing in: she was probably on drugs, she just wanted your cash, she was all hopped up on something, you were by yourself and vulnerable - she didn't even go for the guy that you exited with - easy prey, can't even remember her name...."

But above and beyond all of that, "Jesus'll find a way..." played over it. What would Jesus have done? A constant refrain of "does it matter?" to each rationalization. What would Jesus have done...with 4 credit cards burning a hole in my purse...maybe it was twitching out of fear or desperation....who am I to judge...what would Jesus do...

I passed a Target and pulled into the parking lot. Walked to the auto section and picked up a $20 fix-a-flat kit. Paid for it, and started driving back to the Caribou. Hoping she was there, prepared to be embarrassed when she wasn't. I drove around the parking lot, and didn't see her. I went into the tire place where she had been waiting - she had just got into a white Impala and gotten a ride, but maybe she went somewhere else close.

Maybe I had been duped. Maybe I had just missed my chance because I hesitated and ignored the twitching of my own heart as Jesus moved me to action. I drove around with the kit in my car for a couple of days, in the back of my mind hoping to see her again. I didn't. I returned it to Target. Wrestled with the unease of stepping out and not being met with my expectations. Resolved to not ignore the twitching in my own life the next time it happens.