The Diamond
The scene was the same as always: the old street woman ranting and swearing at passersby. No one remembered when she first showed up, nor did they know her name. Her outbursts of cursing had become more frequent. There was not a more pathetic creature in the city. Out of a face that hadn't smiled in years spewed vile curses at anybody within hearing distance. The authorities had tried to remove her from the area. Despite being hauled away, or the areas she could crawl into during the night being torn down, she always returned. She never asked for anything, violently rebuffing all those who approached her with offers of money or food. Over the years, a pattern had formed; months on end she
wandered the streets, carrying a plastic bag, only to disappear during the winter months. No one knew where she went. She could not be persuaded to stay at the mission; when she did go in, it was only long enough to gobble a sandwich and then scurry away.    On the last day anyone saw the street woman, something very remarkable happened. It started with a man, a stranger. From around the corner and down the street he came, moving slowly and deliberately in her direction.    At first she was unaware of him, yet while he was still some distance away, she turned toward him and straightened herself to a height never seen before. She stood there, clutching her bag with both hands, as if she had been waiting for him. For whatever her reasons, she didn't move from her stance as she would have for others--her eyes were fastened on the stranger...    ...Not once did he change his pace. Slowly, steadily he made his way toward her. It was the first time observers had known her to watch a person so closely. She appeared mesmerized by this man, as if she knew him. Those watching wondered if perhaps he was someone from her past. No one recognized him; he was unknown to them all.    He didn't seem to notice her offensive odor. Her tattered rags fluttering in the breeze didn't seem to deter him as still he advanced, with a gentleness quite unlike any others. One was struck by the extremes of their appearances: his was faultless and hers was rotten and stinking.    Amongst those passing there was a pause, as if in witness to a great moment unfolding. The street woman never moved or took her eyes off his face as he came to stand in front of her. He reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a golden chain, whereon hung a brilliant diamond, emitting shards of light as it glittered in the sun. Without a word, he fastened the chain about her neck. With only a momentary pause of his hands upon her shoulders, he smiled the gentlest of smiles at her, then turned and walked away.    Trembling hands went to her breast as she drew out the chain to look at the sparkling gem. The people around her reacted with disbelief: "Why would he give something like that to HER? She'll only swap it for booze! What's she going to do with it??" Little did they know.    Yet the old street woman heard their meanness as she had so many times before through the years; she turned and hurried away. She was never seen again. On rare occasions, during the lull of otherwise mundane conversations, there were those who sometimes wondered aloud what had happened to the old woman.    Within a year or so, a new subject of curiosity appeared in the area: a well-dressed, neatly-coifed lady who often came to stand in that very place. It was always the same: she would emerge from a smartly-shined car to walk the few paces to the spot where the gift had been given that day. There she would stand quietly with her eyes shut and her face lifted to the sky. After a few brief moments, still without speaking or taking notice of those around her, she would turn and re-enter the waiting vehicle.    There was never a connection made between the beautiful lady and the loathesome street woman. No one noticed the gold chain with the sparkling diamond hanging from her neck. It had not been lost or traded or sold. Instead of losing its lustre among the rags, the rags had been exchanged for clean and stylish garments.    The gift had been freely given. The diamond had not been changed. . . The owner was.    So it is with the Gift of Salvation.
"The Diamond" Copyright © 1998 by Patricia Sikes. All Rights Reserved.
No Other Word for Grace, But Amazing
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