8am and the hostel opened + the caretaker told me I could at least
leave my packsack there till people checked in later in the afternoon. Just
unloading that physical weight helped unburden my soul enough to feel it would
be good to go for a walk. But where to?
‘It’s Christmas morning + I’m in Israel!’ I thought, ‘So why not
head for the beach?
I guessed the Mediterranean would be west from where I was, so I
simply started heading in the opposite direction from where the sun had risen.
I had no map, no idea of which streets led where. If a street went
straight, I went straight; if it curved, so did I.
I simply went where I felt led because I had no idea how to lead
myself.
After all: I was flat broke, 10,000 miles away from home + no one
knew my whereabouts, least of all me.
Christmas in Jewish Tel Aviv is like any other normal workday.
Shops opened up as I walked by; people were heading for work. I alone seemed to
have no sense of purpose and direction.
I walked for about an hour + suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard a
voice calling ‘Henri!’
I gave myself a shake + sure enough, there on the other side of
the street, I recognized the French couple I’d met in Cyprus, Gilles Noel (yup,
his name just had to be ‘Christmas’) +
his girlfriend from Paris. Remember: the couple who’d told me about the cheap
student flight? Well, there they were waving + shouting at me! I waved back and
they crossed the street to join me.
‘Eh, Henri, good to see you! Ca va? Did you meet your friend? he
asked, all in one sentence.
I answered negative to all of the above. Gilles sighed + replied,
‘Wow, that must be hard! You don’t know where your friend is + so… you don’t have
any money left then?
Again negative.
‘So you need some money… Here’… and he handed me a bunch of
Israeli shekels! ‘
‘You can take this and when you are able, you send it back to me,
it’s good?’
I was very thankful for their kindness, a miraculous provision in
fact! and I felt bad for all the nasty things I’d ever felt + said against
Parisians.
‘And hey, because I just gave you our money, now I have to go
change some more for ourselves, so you’re not going anywhere, eh? Why not come
with us?’
For sure, I was not going anywhere in particular; so I agreed and
decided to tag along with them to the American Express Office. It wasn’t far.
And when we arrived, I sat down against a far side wall while
Gilles got in the line to exchange money;
But my vision was drawn to another lineup in front of a wicket
where travelers could pick up mail.
As I watched the line move forward + their faces fill with smiles
when they received their letters, I heard another voice tug at my heart with an outrageous
suggestion:
‘It’s Christmas morning, Henry. You are far away from anyone you
know + no one knows where you are, yet it’s Christmas + you should get in line
for your Christmas card.’
I protested, ‘Exactly… no one knows I am here in Israel, let alone
at the Tel Aviv AmEx office. There is no way there’s any mail for me!
But again, the voice persisted, forcibly yanked me out of my seat
+ pulled me into the line.
About 10 others were ahead of me and as each one approached the
wicket + spoke their name, the teller looked down to her drawer of letters +
either handed them theirs or sent them away empty.
I felt totally out of place, awkward, embarrassed even, as the
line moved forward.
4 – 3 – 2 were now left in front of me and I readied myself to
immediately turn and walk back to my chair against the wall, out of the way,
away from this totally presumptuous impossibility!
And suddenly it was just me + the teller + the voice.
I stepped forward, weakly uttered, ‘Schmidt.. Henry’ and turned
away, unable to face any more disappointment.
I had had enough already for this Christmas.
But… to my complete shock + amazement, after the teller looked down
for my name + back up, she had an envelope in her hand.
‘Here’s one!’ she said.
And then almost in the same breath, ‘And another too! It’s Henry,
correct?’
Totally baffled, I fumbled a feeble response, took the outreached
letters and walked back, shaking to my seat.
I could not believe it!
No one knew I was in the city and I had had no intention of coming
to this office this morning! I was just trying to walk away from
disappointment, but here I was, now holding 2 letters with my name on them.
I recognized my friend’s handwriting on both of them.
I opened the first and his message was: he had returned to Canada;
he could not continue traveling with relationships so unsettled.
I felt better to at least know for certain what had happened: I
was not going to meet him here in Israel.
I opened the second and there was: a $50US bill + a note saying
this was his donation to ‘The Get-Henry-out-of-Israel Fund’.
Wow! In a short few minutes, I’d gone from destitute to plenitude!
The words of the unknown American Christian walking in the dark
streets of Tel Aviv early that Christmas morning resounded in my heart: ‘Don’t
worry: God will work this out for good for you!’
Somebody was definitely at work, connecting dots in a Christmas
puzzle that had defied solution.
I knew one thing for sure: my intellect had not figured this out,
nor had my hand worked it.
That Christmas showed me I was not in control of my life.
But what this was Christmas present I had received?
The rest of my journey was yet to reveal the answer.
So I booked my flight back to Athens. The ticket cost me $49.50: I
was rich, I had 50 cents to spare!
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