Keep the Faith (guest post: Angela Crisafulli)
This past Saturday I lost my purse somewhere in Manhattan. I woke up with a sore throat that morning and knew I should just stay in bed, but I had a conference to attend and a classmate in my guest room who had traveled from Maryland to attend with me. Staying in bed was not an option. I swallowed down a bunch of supplements and went on my way.
I felt horrible for my classmate, that she had the pleasure of enjoying my company that day. I tried to be upbeat but honestly just wanted my bed. I was so exhausted and since I am not a coffee drinker, I loaded up on dark chocolate to keep going. This resulted in a nightmare stomachache. On top of that, I wore wedge boots that I hoped would keep me warm but wound up hurting and hindering my running efforts to and from subways. So as you can see, I was pretty banged up.
Finally, the day was drawing to a close and after sweating out a fever for the past 4 hours I was so relieved to be on the train home. I took out my purse to pay the train man but sadly there was no purse to take out. It was official, my purse which held my phone, license, credit card, cash, lip pumper, essential oils, and business cards was somewhere out there in Manhattan.
I was upset. My friend, who had joined me for the conference, and the man on the train she had sat next to were showing me great sympathy in this moment, which eased my grief. I reminded myself that those were only material things and not a big deal. But it was their compassion that truly comforted me after my long day of hardships. I will always remember the man next to my friend on the train. His name was Dwayne and he was the most innocent thug I ever met in my life. I call him a thug because he dressed like one but he was more like a lamb. He didn’t know me at all but was really present with me in that moment on the train. He had said, “Man, and all your stuff was in it? Make sure you cancel your card.” He made it seem like my problem was his and nothing else mattered in the world. I left the train telling him, “It’s only material, thank you for making me feel better, God Bless you.”
I had assumed the worst. I even wrote a song titled “Pick-Pocketer” as a way to relieve some stress. I was delirious by the end of the night and sang it to my classmate for some comic relief. Thought I’d share with you…
“(in my country blues voice) —> pick-pocketer…why you pickin on me…you picked my pockets…you took all my money….pick-pocketer, why you pickin on me…you got my oils and alll ma muney. Pick-pocketer ooo pickpocketer…you took my license and my lip plumper….pick-pocketer you played your game on me, now your lips are plump and you got my cell phone…pick-pocketer ooo pick-pocketer, you picked my pocket, you picked my pocket”
The next day I made a bunch of calls from bed. I had to make sure my phone and card were suspended. Then I received an incoming call. It was a woman who could hardly speak English, but with the little she could speak she managed to tell me she found my purse at Penn Station. When I was reunited with my purse, it was just the way I left it, not a dollar spent! God is good and so are so many people! Out of all the people who could have found my purse, an honest and loving woman did. We’re talking Penn Station folks, a bum’s dream! Only two things stand out to me from that day – Compassion and Charity. Immaterial, invisible, and priceless. Keep trust alive, keep faith alive, keep hope alive!
It has been a pleasure writing for you!