C

She appeared at first very reserved, and seemed unwilling to hold any discourse with me, attending quietly to her poor little stock of biscuits, sweetmeats, and cigarettes. I offered her a tract, directing her eye to the cross upon it; but she received it coldly, and presently laid it aside. Whether she could read I knew not. Her countenance, however, bore the marks of many a weary year, and her hands seemed no less acquainted with hardship. My heart was much drawn toward the poor woman, and I secretly begged the Lord to furnish me with some occasion of speaking to her; for I perceived that to press myself upon her would profit little. 

At length I bought a biscuit from her, if only that some intercourse might begin between us. Whilst opening it, a poor child came begging; whereupon I took but a small piece for myself and gave the remainder unto her. This little circumstance seemed to make the way somewhat easier. I inquired again concerning the things she sold, and by degrees she began to answer me. Thus the Lord was pleased to make use of a thing so small to obtain that entrance which I had been unable to find for myself.

I soon perceived that the poor woman was very hard of hearing, so that we were both strained somewhat in our little discourse. Yet when I asked whether she had eaten, she answered me instead that she was exceedingly thirsty, and had not had water yesternight since. This moved me much. I purchased for her a large bottle of water, that she might have enough to carry her through the night, together with a smaller one from which she might drink at once. When I returned and placed them before her, she looked upon the larger bottle with some surprise, and with much humility said that it was too much. I told her she would have need of it before the night was spent. How little a thing is a cup of water to him who hath it in abundance; yet how great a mercy may it appear unto one who hath thirsted through the day.

In her condition there was none whom she might readily send on such an errand, neither would the stores easily receive her. The rains of these three weeks had made her poor trade harder still. Few now trouble themselves to buy biscuits or sweetmeats from such a little stall, when convenience stores stand plentifully round about. She seemed to me as one striving, not against another seller, but against life itself; and methought she knew it well. Yet there was nothing careless about the poor woman. I observed how cleanly she kept herself, and with what order she had arranged the few things that belonged to her. Her little stock was set in its place, and even her scant earthly possessions were kept with a certain quiet care. There was something in all this which spoke more than she herself had yet told me. I thought, surely this woman hath been a mother.

She was fourscore and ten years of age. She had borne two children; one has passed away, and the son who remained had taken unto himself a wayward woman, and afterward sent his aged mother out for being a burden. Her husband too had long since died. Thus had she passed through many places, many circumstances, and many relations, the remembrance of which seemed attended with pain. And so she finds the remainder of her days here, a mother to none, belonging to no earthly household, selling her little store of biscuits and sweetmeats to those who pass by. She told me that she spent her days here in the park—the very same place wherein we are accustomed to hold our street meetings. When evening came, and the establishments across the road had closed, she would go thither with others in the same condition, whom she affectionately called her friends, and together they would prepare their little places beneath the open heaven for the night. If the rain came, there was nowhere else to go. They simply received it as it fell.

I could not but marvel at her. Here was a woman upon whom fourscore and ten years had laid no light burden; widowed, bereaved of one child, cast off by another, and now having the open air for her chamber. Yet from her lips I heard no complaint. She carried a heavy cross, but made little noise beneath its weight.

Presently she looked up and saw a woman entering the grounds and coming toward us with a smile. “This here is my friend,” said she. The woman greeted me warmly, and I learned that her name was L.

It was now late in the afternoon, drawing near unto five; and I asked them both whether they had eaten that day. The answer was much what I had expected. A meal was therefore obtained for the two, which they received with such humility and thankfulness as made the giving of it a pleasure. Whilst L ate, we fell into sweet and familiar discourse, and I was content simply to hear them speak of their lives. There are seasons when the heart is better employed in listening than in making itself heard.

I afterward offered L a tract, which she immediately recognized. This greatly surprised me. She told me that she had gathered such tracts from about the park, where people had left them after a company which came on Sundays to proclaim the Word had finished their labor and departed. She had, she said, many of them already at home. I could not but smile in astonishment. Here were these little papers, which one might suppose forgotten or cast away, quietly gathered up and carried home by this poor woman. I thanked the Lord, whose Word hath ways of travelling after His servants have gone.

L presently asked to be excused, desiring to carry half of her meal back unto her dwelling beneath the bridge, which the floods of the past week had covered. Whilst gathering her things, she jested that I must surely be a rich man to show them such kindness. I told her simply that it was the Lord who was kind. I was no more than they were, but only a receiver of His kindness myself; and what they had received from me was but something of that mercy passing through another poor creature. She thanked me warmly for all that had been given, and I thanked her in return for receiving me so freely, and bade the Lord bless her. Before departing she took a handful of sweetmeats from the old woman's basket by way of payment. I took one also, though for another reason—that I might keep some little remembrance of them.

When L had gone, I turned and perceived that the aged mother had quietly fallen asleep, leaning herself against the wall. Her meal was carefully covered, perhaps reserved for afterward, and her little wares had already been gathered into a bag. Evening was drawing on, and soon would come the hour when she must cross the road and prepare her place for the night. 

I looked upon her freely for a long while as she slept, observing the many creases upon her aged face, and wondering how much of their form had been traced there by the people who had passed through her life. Then I looked upon her hands, worn and furrowed with years, and thought how those same hands must once have labored for others, tended them, fed them, and helped to shape lives besides her own.

My more academic mind presently accused me: Thou hast not properly declared the Gospel unto her. Yet strangely, my spirit was at peace. I could not persuade myself that the Gospel had been altogether absent from our little intercourse. Perhaps this poor woman, so long accustomed to being passed by, had received something, a cup of cold water, of tenderness in being treated as a person of worth, of honor and reverence (Exodus 20:12). Indeed, throughout our discourse her own speech had often been interrupted with such expressions as, “The Lord is kind to me,” and, “The Lord never fails to send me help.” I thought much upon these words. Here was a woman of fourscore and ten, sleeping beneath the rain when it came, yet speaking to me of the kindness of God.

He who counts the stars and calleth them by name, also knoweth by name those who sleep under them.

I dared not think that my words were more needful to her than the Lord Himself. Perhaps He would touch this aged soul with kindness more deeply than I could reach her by a monologue. I have long believed that there is a language which needeth little interpretation, and which even the hardest and weariest heart may understand. Kindness is the language everyone understands.

The LORD is kind and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The LORD is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made.
Psalm 145:8-9

I remained quietly beside her for a while, my mind going over the many things she had told me of her life. How strange did the whole meeting appear. Ninety years had passed over this poor soul—and now our paths had crossed upon this little spot of ground. Yet how wonderful that the kindness of the Lord had followed her through fourscore and ten years, and had permitted us to meet at this very hour. I knew not how many evenings yet remained unto her. I could only pray that, when all these weary years are at last brought to their close, the kindness of God in Christ might be among the last things her poor eyes behold before they open upon eternity.

I remembered the little treat she was selling I had received earlier, I took it out, and held it for some time in my hand, considering that perhaps this poor insignificant item would be all I should remember her by. I searched my thoughts. A woman of fourscore and ten years, once a wife, a mother of children, acquainted with so many changes and sorrows, and now disowned by her own, had left me this little thing; and methought, while looking upon it, that I held something of her life in my hand.

My thoughts turned upon myself, and I began to wonder how I also should be remembered when my days come to end, or whether any remembrance of me should remain at all. To this I could give no answer; but there came such a quietness upon my spirit. What matters it whether men remember me? The Lord knoweth me by name. My thoughts come to rest. To be known of Him is a remembrance beyond all that this poor creature could ever desire.

Her name is Conchita.

(More hath been spoken in between the almost two hours I was privileged to sit with both her and L, yet this sufficeth for now. This record I write in her honor.)