The Community Parking Lot
November 18, 2009
image courtesy of photobucket.com
“Just lift it,” Ralph said. “Easy…just a little…now over.”
I did just as he said, but the mangled piece of metal refused to catch. I grunted. This was not going well.
“Sorry,” I told Cindy.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “This is all my fault, anyway. I’m such a ditz.”
“Oh, geez,” Mary said from behind us. “Don’t say that. I did this once when my kids were just babies. And they were in the car.”
Ralph and I looked back at Mary. She shrugged and said, “It happens.”
Ralph agreed, saying that he’d done the same thing with his tractor once. But that was in the middle of his two hundred acres and not the parking lot of the grocery store. Which made it worse, he said. “That was a long walk. Both ways.”
They were right, of course. At some point everyone locked their keys in the car. It was a rite of passage, whether from childhood to adulthood or adulthood to senility.
It was the noise that had attracted me. Frustration marked by the repetitive thumping of a door handle that would not budge. Ralph was already there, a fellow passerby on his way into the store for bread and a carton of Red Man. His hands were tucked inside his overalls and his cowboy hat was cocked against the setting sun. Hey surveyed the situation with all the patience a farmer must have.
Mary, too, was already there. Her and Cindy had unknowingly parked beside one another. They were strangers going in but now acquaintances in the parking lot.
Thumpthumpthump as Cindy tried again.
“Don’t think that’s a’gonna work, ma’am,” Ralph advised as I neared them.
“Excuse me,” Mary called out, “you wouldn’t happen to have a coat hanger?”
I answered that I did not and walked over to them. All three caught me up to speed in a short amount of time, the gist being that Cindy had to get home, couldn’t, and had no one to call.
“Maybe they’ll have one inside,” Mary offered. “I’ll go check.”
She returned a few moments later hefting a wire coat hanger into the air like the spoils of war. It was a turning point, or so we thought. But I’d never actually attempted the semi-felonious act and had no idea what to do. Ralph did, but lacked the dexterity to hook the lock just right. The combination of our skills resulted in two small scratches (one on me, the other on Cindy’s car) and no entry.
“Such a ditz,” Cindy said again, though I thought that comment may have been given in my direction.
“No more’n the rest of us, ma’am,” answered Ralph.
“Maybe you should call a locksmith,” Mary offered. “Doesn’t look like we’re making too much headway here.”
Neither Ralph nor I took exception to that, even though in the handbook of manhood calling a locksmith was tantamount to stopping to ask for directions. But the evening was wearing on and we all had places to go.
“Maybe so,” Cindy said.
Ralph nodded. I shrugged.
Mary went back inside to fetch a phonebook and returned victorious yet again with news that someone was on the way.
“Thank you all so much,” Cindy said. “Really. I was afraid I’d be standing here trying to figure out what to do all by myself.”
It wasn’t the words as much as the feeling behind them that gave me pause. This was no mere thanks, no empty platitude of appreciation. Cindy meant what she said. Meant it to her very core.
The fact that none of us had really done anything of merit to help the situation didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was that she hadn’t been alone to face it. In fact, at that moment, standing there and hearing those words echo through me, I honestly believed the company of three strangers was worth the whole embarrassing ordeal. It taught her something.
It taught me something, too.
Because the word “community” always conjured in my head towns or neighborhoods or churches. Things set in place, hardened and tethered by geography.
But that wasn’t true, was it? Not there in the parking lot of the grocery store with four strangers. With us, community became something spontaneous created out of need. It moved fluid, tethered not to a place but to wherever we happened to be.
And I thought then that was God’s definition of community, where there were no boundaries to separate us and where strangers were really friends we have yet to meet.
Yes.
To read more posts on the topic of Community, visit the blog carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley at One Word at a Time.
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I’m a writer whose first novel, Snow Day, will be published by FaithWords in 2010.
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“And I thought then that was God’s definition of community, where there were no boundaries to separate us and where strangers were really friends we have yet to meet.”
That was beautiful.
Billy, this is a terrific addition to the carnival. I’ve read so many different views, but this really struck me. Community does seem to be a structured type scenario, with a group of people who already know one another.
“community became something spontaneous created out of need”
Those words capture the reality… community can be anywhere, anytime… with friends, or with someone who needs one.
Oh, now THAT was good!
Why do I suddenly get the feeling that I’m doomed to lock my keys in my car soon? And people around here are just not that friendly.
This was wonderful.
I love God’s definition of community…..this world sure needs more of it.
Great post, Billy!
Whenever two or more are gathered….or is it misery loves company? Love this, Billy.
Wendy, I think you probably left your windows down anyway.
Wish you could put the definition of community on bill boards! We need to act this way, all the time.
Blessings,
andrea
Awesome! IT actually choked me up and made me happy all of you stopped to just be there for her:)
So, does Ralph normally lock his tractor when he’s not driving it? I mean are tractor break ins a problem in your area Billy?
You are so right…there are no “strangers” in small-town communities!
Great post, Billy…and Annie K’s comment cracked me up!
I love small towns. I broke down on the interstate with small babies in my van. No one could help me either, but just not being alone helped so much. Eventually help came and I was so relieved and grateful. My van is still down, but I remember still how much better I felt just knowing someone else knew or cared.
Billy,
How true the words of this post really are! Sometimes just having someone there to talk to and to share what you are going through is all we truly need. It’s knowing that people don’t just look at you, and walk away, but walk over and at least offer to help. That day Cindy didn’t just meet three strangers, she met three wonderful souls that offered what they could and chose not to simply walk away.
Love and Hugs ~ Kat
Very good. Not much else I can say…
You know, we hear all the time about how BAD people are, but when I hear stories like this, I remember that not all people are bad. Some are good, but just need the opportunity to prove it…
I’ve locked my keys in my car 4 times in my almost-32 years. Thank goodness, every time, God sent somebody to help me…
A very nice contribution to the Blog Carnival.
We have a close enough relationship with our neighbors that we leave our housekeys at their homes in case we lock ourselves out. With two dogs, we’ve experienced the joy of going out and locking the door behind us without taking a key with us. So far, someone has always been home to let us back in.
Yes the greatest, far out! Yes God is in the parking lot community. love it.
y e s
And I love the aspect of community here that depicts our short-comings. Yup, I’m a ditz, and yup, I’m a man who can’t get the dang door open…we’re all failing at something…but we’re here together, accepting each other. Yeah, I like that part too (and the rest)
I love moments like this.
It’s kind of like the saying (I have it on a plaque in my kitchen…” “Home is where they love you”. Community is where we gather. Anyone, anywhere. Love it!
Love this post. I just read Havah: The STory of Eve by Tosca Lee. It’s really got me thinking about how God intended things to be, and how we’ve made them.
I thought Cindy & Mary were friends in the first exchange. Turns out they were but didn’t know it yet! I love this post, it warms my heart & gives me hope. Beautiful.
Billy, when you say, “…strangers were really friends we have yet to meet” it’s so great. True, huh? Yet I often shy away from situations that you just described….I will do that no longer.
Yes, to NOT be alone makes all the difference.
I believe God said something like that in the first garden of the world, didn’t he?
“It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”
He knew all along. We’re still catching up.
Great post, Billy. It remind me of something my mom’s old boss said about a time when he was a pastor and sat with a couple from the church in the hospital. I don’t remember if their son had passed away or was just very sick. All I remember is that he had no words and could only cry with them. That meant the world to them. I know the circumstances are different but the point still remains — community — the need we have for each other, is so strong. And so often I think we fail to see that true community is not what we make it out to be. It’s so much simpler than that.
I’m so thankful to live in such a wonderful, caring community. There’s nothing like the feeling of being able to count on people to help you out, even if you don’t know them from Adam.
Great post, Billy!