Two days ago, Mary and I took the dogs to the beach as usual. It was a chilly, overcast day in the 40’s, and we were bundled in fleece jackets, long pants, socks and shoes. I had a down vest on, too, but was still cold. The stoning was good, though, and as the dogs romped, we walked the water line looking for treasures left by winter storms.

Suddenly, without our notice, an elderly woman appeared right in front of us, startling both of us. We’d never seen her before, and she presented a peculiar picture in a long winter coat, babushka and tennis shoes, dragging two half-full, black garbage bags along the sand, as well as a white plastic bag filled with paper trash. Though her steps were small and slow, she was bent with determination.

Because she walked directly up to us I said, “We’re collecting stones. What are you collecting?”

Without pausing as she passed she said, “Raked leaves. It’s easier to drag them on the sand than on the road.”

“Where did the leaves come from?” I said.

“My last job.”

“Where was that?”

“Up there,” she said, nodding toward the houses on the dune.

We walked alongside her, fascinated. “Where are you taking them?” Mary said.

“I’m going to stow my gear at my next job.”

“Where’s that?”

“Down that way,” she said, tipping her head toward the creek.

We reached for the heavy bags saying, “Let us help you.” But she yanked them toward herself saying, “No.” How could this woman, in her 70’s, be employed to rake leaves and dispose of them? It didn’t make sense.

Mary said, “You won’t be able to cross the creek today. It’s too wide and is over your knees. You’ll get your shoes and pants wet.”

The woman kept trudging along. “My feet are hot and could use a cooling off.”

She made it clear she didn’t want our help, so we found a spot to sit, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly she dropped her bags and said, “I forgot my rake.”

Turning around, she slowly walked back the way she came, traveling the length of two football fields before disappearing in the bluff grasses. “I’ll bet she won’t be back for her garbage,” I said.

But 15 minutes later we saw her dark form reappear, heading our way. Sure enough, she was dragging an ancient rake with claw-like tines. When she reached her bags, she gathered them up with difficulty after adding the rake to her burdens,  and resumed her steady march toward the creek. As she approached the rushing water, she paused, struggled to raise her bags up high, then stepped in, shoes and all.

Half way across she stumbled and fell face-first into the water. All but the top of her rounded back went under, and she didn’t move.

(…continued tomorrow)

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” (Hebrews 13:2)