Help Me

It was really busy. The hum of voices carrying through the place were drown out by some rich conversation and a cup of coffee. The lines were running out the door and people were on their solitary mission before going on to the next stop. So is the way of Tim Horton's. I was sitting with a friend, Lloyd, at a booth in the midst of conversation when I noticed something on the napkin holder. I looked over a little more closely and noticed that scrawled on the first napkin in the device were the words..." Help Me. "

For a moment which was in actuality very brief, but in some ways could have been an eternity, I was stunned by the mystery of the experience. It wasn't so much about the words nor the fact someone had written on a napkin in a napkin holder. Upon reflection I was stunned because of the experience and the possibilities wrapped up in this message. Being in Tim's during its busiest 'rush' of the day in which 'everyone' is there - I read a quiet cry for help. It was so un-noticeable. It was so simple. It was so un-obtrusive. This message for help was pushed off to the side in a booth on a napkin holder. I don't want to read too much into it; however, my mind started to think of all the possibilities.

I thought that perhaps is was someone sitting in the booth sometime before me who was desperate, perhaps suicidal, who needed someone to talk to, yet, had no one to listen. Or maybe it was someone who had gotten themselves into trouble somehow and just needed some help, but didn't know who to ask or what to do. It quite easily could have been someone who was bored and wanted to write those words in 'jest.' Finally I considered that it could have been someone who was kidnapped and while her abductor was distracted had scrawled these words on the napkin in hopes that a 'saviour' would see her message and come to her rescue. I thought about lots of different possibilities for this wee note.

Finally I determined that I was thinking way too much about this, but I could not shake the importance of this experience. I guess the profundity of it was still sinking in (and still is). There is a world all around us crying out for help in some way. How will we respond? Will we take the note seriously or just blow it off? We have choices to make day in and day out. When the desperate cry for aid shows itself at our doorstep what will we choose to do with it?


-Michael