People watching. In the mall, through the grocery store, at the park. My eyes follow the individuals that pass me by; I try to read their life story from their faces... and wonder if they even know that I am watching them.
The tired woman at the cash register who looks like she's having an awful day. I smile and greet her, "Hi! How are you?" When I leave, I'm sure to say, "Thank you very much," and wish her a good day.
I wonder what would happen if I asked her what was wrong, and stopped to listen for a moment.
But I am a passerby, and it's none of my business.
The young guy I ask to help me find something in the home dec department. He leaves what he's doing, looks long and hard and finally calls in a manager for backup. And then he stands by politely while the latter assists, even though his work there is done. Oh yes, and he's pretty cute. I smile. I thank him warmly. And walk out of the store.
I wonder what would happen if I asked him what his name was.
But I am just a passerby, and not the kind of girl who asks some random guy out.
The old woman making her way slowly down the grocery aisle. I stop to stare at how graceful she is. Her clothes are flattering and I can tells she knows her best colors. Her hair is tastefully arranged and she's taken the time to put on makeup. And she looks happy... absolutely glowing.
I wonder what would happen if I were to say, "You are beautiful!"
But I am a passerby and don't want to scare some old lady by telling her I want to look that good when I'm eighty.
The young girl who's running around at the playground where I watch my sisters. I hear her mother call her, "Amanda!" Hmm... she has my name. She's definitely a firstborn, with lots of personality and determination. I watch the way she bosses the boys and tries to prove she's tougher than they are. I see myself in her... fifteen years ago.
I feel like introducing myself; saying "hi" to her mom and telling her what's going on inside her daughter's head.
But I am just a passerby, and I'm not being paid to befriend children and give their parents advice on raising them... yet.
The boy at the mall, being teased by his "friends." They are going too far... shoving him not-so-playfully. He is clearly upset, maybe even close to tears.
I wonder what would happen if I walked up and said, "Hey guys. What's going on here?" Or just stared them down.
But I am a passerby, and I don't get involved in fights among strangers.
I want to reach out, speak up, and show a piece of God's love.
But I stay silent, keep my head down, and don't interfere.
That's what we passerbys do.
Should I be something more than just a passerby?
-Amanda
P.S. This song by one of my favorites, Allie Moss, takes my own thoughts on this subject a little further. Give it a listen – it's really special. :)
Image: Dustjacket Attic
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