I'm a great one for chatting to complete strangers, at bus stops, on the tube, in the supermarket, waiting for a table at a restaurant...if there's an opportunity for a chat, chances are I'll grab it. And it usually turns out really well. As a direct result of my little habit, I've heard life stories, petted dogs, been given knitting tips and recipe ideas, and on one memorable occasion, I was offered (and accepted) a ride down the Strand in a horse-drawn carriage!
Today though, sitting on the train just before rush hour, I didn't feel very chatty. Stuff that had been churning in my mind for days started to settle, and things were rising to the surface. So I was pensive. Opposite me was one of those...comfortable looking people. You know what I mean? Those people whom you could easily imagine yourself having a cup of tea with, the human equivalent of your favourite plush easy chair. (Aside: there is one person who occupies just this kind of space in my life. It's easier to relax with him than with anyone else sometimes, and he is just completely safe and comfortable. He's good fun, and has become a dear friend, and I'm really thankful that God put him in my life.)
Anyway, gushing over, I return to my story. This nice comfortable person on the train sat there looking at me from Waterloo to Vauxhall without saying a word. Then, just before Clapham Junction, he leaned forward and said, "I don't know what's wrong, but whatever it is, you're not alone. God is with you all the time, no matter what. And I hope you have a blessed day."
It didn't feel intrusive, although it could very easily have. It just felt like something I needed to hear at that moment, and I didn't realise until I heard it. And it was just nice that someone bothered to make the effort to reach out.
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