I Am James

At first it all seemed fairly innocuous.  But then I wondered.

He was nice enough, even sincere.  And he even brought a gift.  But when the stranger named James left, I was left wondering...

The other night around eight I heard a voice at our door.  There stood a young man with some wind-chimes in his hands.

“I’ve walked by your place a bunch of times, and this may seem a little weird, but I have these wind chimes and I can’t put them up where I live, and I thought this was the kind of place where they would go.”

See what I mean?  After we chatted, after he gave me the wind chimes, after I thanked him for his thoughtfulness and after he left, I wondered:

Was he checking things out?  Was he casing the joint?  Would he return later on with nefarious intent?

I mean, he seemed nice enough.  His name was James...from Vermont...doesn’t live too far from here.

I was extra careful to lock the door that night, and have to admit I didn’t sleep all too well.  But the next morning everything was fine.  Even so, at work that next day I wondered if maybe I’d come home to a ransacked house.  But when I got home, everything was fine.

This evening I went out for a walk.  As I was traipsing around up in the hills I passed a woman: a stranger.  She smiled at me and said “hello,” but I could tell she was a little leery of this stranger walking down her quiet street.  And then it hit me.

I am James.

I’m a stranger to most everyone in this world, a stranger with no ill intent, maybe even with a smile or a gift.  But people don’t know me, and these days, more than ever, we’re all a bit suspicious.  With all we hear about and read about, it’s almost hard for us to imagine that a stranger would NOT wish us harm, let alone wish us well or give us a gift.

Which makes me wonder how many gifts are out there waiting for us, and how many strangers are out there waiting for—even NEEDING—our gifts, but we all seem to have forgotten who our neighbors really are.