“Share joyfully; God loves a willing heart. ~ 2 Corinthians 9:7
Arthur, a widower whose felt
emptier each winter, felt the gray fog of seasonal depression settling in by
mid-November. While the world rushed toward Thanksgiving and Christmas with
glittering lights and frosted cookies, Arthur longed—not for the warmth of a
fireplace, but for genuine human connection.
But not in a traditional volunteering role.
Instead, he bought a bright reflective vest, wrapped a sharp
blue scarf around his neck, and filled two oversized thermoses with hot spiced
cider. As the late-autumn sun dipped low, he headed to the busy exit lane of
the local shopping mall.
Arthur set strict safety rules for himself: he remained
firmly on the raised concrete pedestrian island, stepping forward only when red
lights brought cars to a complete stop and drivers rolled down their windows to
invite him over. In his heavy coat pockets, he carried handwritten 3x5 index
cards that read: “Wishing you peace, joy, and love today.”
Within minutes, yellow flashing lights cut through the
chilly dusk. Sgt. Miller, the mall’s head security officer, pulled his patrol
car up to the island. “Sir, you can’t be out here in the dark—it’s a safety
hazard,” Miller said sternly.
Arthur held out a hot cup, the cinnamon aroma drifting into
the cold air. “Even in the dark, people need a little boost. Spiced cider?”
Miller paused, taking the cup. Looking at Arthur’s
reflective vest, his careful setup, and the visible calm washing over frantic
drivers. The guard softened. “I’ve been on double shifts this week. This is the
warmest reaction I’ve gotten from anyone in days.”
“Then stay a minute,” Arthur said gently. “We You don’t need
to carry the holiday rush alone.”
Miller offered a compromise. Every evening at 5:00 PM, he’d
park behind the island for his dinner break, leaving his hazard lights on to
shield Arthur from traffic.
Protected by the amber glow, the traffic softened too.
Authur continued pouring, stepping back when the light turned green, so traffic
never backed up. Some commuters even offered brief comments about loss and
stress in addition to their thanks.
Arthur finished the season sharing cups of grace. Whatever
winter funk had been dogging him faded away with the steam in those thermoses.
On that frozen strip of asphalt, he had found sanctuary—discovering that the
surest way to heal his lonely heart is to be the light in someone else’s
journey.
