Mickey’s Meanderings
Judgment #7 (Bumping Into Jesus At The Gas Pump)
It had been a long day. I got up early and drove three hours across the state of Florida through the traffic of Orlando and Tampa for an assignment for the New York Times. I did the reporting at the event, filed my story by 6 p.m., and then got back in the car and did the same drive in reverse.
Tired and hungry at 9 p.m., I was staring into space beside a gas pump as I filled up my car’s tank. I was 30 minutes from home and ready to be there. Clutching the handle of the gas pump, I watched the gallons and dollar marks roll on and on. I was already irritated as the meter ticked past $55. Ticked, was the right word.
Suddenly, I realized someone was standing beside me. At first, I thought I was being robbed, but then I saw that what the young man was holding was a plastic gas can – one of those red containers you fill when you’re either in trouble on the highway or filling up a lawn mower.
“Ma’am, can you help me out?” he asked. “I’m trying to get home and I need gas.”
Gas?!! At first, I wanted to say, “You want me to spend more money after I just got gouged at the pump?” And then I wanted to say, “I just lost my job, buddy, so go beg somebody who’s hauling in a regular paycheck and not sweating every dollar like I am.”
But I looked into the face of this young man and all of that momentary indignation vanished. He had long, brown, shoulder-length hair and a longish brown beard. He wore clothes that nearly swallowed his slender frame. And he stared at me with calm, brown eyes that were apologetic, kind and pleading.
For a moment looking at him, I said to myself, “Wow, this is a test! What if this guy is really Jesus? What if he’s asking me to help the poor, the indigent, the needy? And what kind of person am I if I don’t help?”
And then the cynical city dweller in me said, “Lisa, don’t get hosed by somebody who doesn’t want to pay what gas costs -- like you can afford to fill his car and yours?”
But we talked. The young man, whom I guess was no more than 21 or 22, said he grew up in California and wanted to see this country. He started driving in his Honda Civic last year, working his way to the East Coast. He said he had lived briefly in Arkansas and Georgia, and now he lived in Ocala, Fla. Ocala was about an hour north of where we stood at the gas pumps and his Honda needed gas to get home.
True, when these things happen, I never really know what to do. And these days, a lot of people have many needs. I know better than to give cash. If someone is hungry, I’ll give them food. I don’t currently have a regular, predictable salary, but I still try to give a little money to an area homeless shelter. But gas? That was a first, for sure.
I capped off my expensive tank of gas, then asked him to place his gas can on the ground. I filled it up with the two gallons it held. He thanked me and clutched the red can to his chest, baggy pants touching the oily pavement of the cement lot.
Driving home, I wondered if his story had been true? Who knows? And who am I to judge? Sure, all of us can decide whether or not to help someone who asks and it’s fair to wonder about the authenticity of their pleas.
But all I know is I looked into the face of that kid and saw the hopeful face of youth. I wondered if his parents knew he was begging with a gas can? I wondered if his parents cared? I wondered if he really were on his way back to Ocala? And yes, I also wondered if, unknowingly, I had just bumped into somebody who would “file a report” on me to the higher being and say, “She was willing to help.”
I can laugh about that now. I kind of doubt Jesus Christ would be hanging out at a Mobil station in Lake Mary, Fla., waiting with a gas can to see who would give and who would not. Then again, you never know.
But you give because it’s in your heart. You care because that’s who you are. You judge because you are human. You reserve judgment because you have the intelligence and rearing to understand that there are things you can’t know for certain, so the default then becomes simply to do what is right. Further, you never give to receive.
I wish I still had a regular salary. I wish I could give to every charity that needs help. And while I’ll never know if that bearded young man’s story was what he told me, it doesn’t matter. That $9 can of gas was a small gift to a stranger. No strings attached.
Well, almost.
As I turned to get into my car, I smiled at him and said, “Dude, just remember to pay it forward. When you are able to help somebody else, pass it on.”
- Lisa D. Mickey, March 19, 2012
