Entertaining Angels

I was having a bad night. I just needed to clear my head. I left my bike behind and walked home. My head was full as I tried to process a dozen different things. I was tired, stressed, angry, and hurt. I walked home the same way I always do, down the Zeedijk and past the construction in front of Central Station. But something was different. As I passed the construction I noticed a woman sitting on the ground, a torn paper cup in front of her, her hands out as she begged for a few coins to buy food for the night. I was used to seeing homeless people in that spot. The same man with a mangy dog sat there ranting every morning. But I'd never seen anyone else there before. I kept on walking. As I reached the corner to cross the street away from here I felt as if I should turn around. I don't know what made me turn around. I had 5 euros in my pocket and nervously I doubled back to give the money to her. I was shaking as I placed the bill in her cup and sat down beside her. "What is your name?"I asked.
"Yartka"she replied. "My name is Michelle,"I said.
And then we talked. She told me about her life. How she is dutch, but spent the last 10 years in England so she is having trouble getting help here in the Netherlands. She told me about the places she goes to eat and sleep and the churches that help her. And about her broken ankle. The only thing she didn't talk about was her blackened eye. And then we talked about books. You see, Yartka, loves to read. She told me it is her escape from the real world. She goes to the library and reads for hours, safe from the reality of her life. My life has been a picnic compared to hers, but I like to hide from the world behind a good book also. I was surprised to find myself having something in common with this woman.
As we talked a strange thing happened, people began to stop. First this American woman stopped dead in her tracks and stared at me. Her mouth hanging open in surprise/ horror/shock. "Are you homeless?," she asked. I didn't know what to say. I was shocked by her forwardness and embarassed by the question. She was looking right at me, not at Yartka. I could barely stutter out an answer as she ordered her drunken husband to toss a few coins into the cup. I cringed as he tossed the coins, laughing when one missed and Yartka scrambled for it. I was sickened by the way he made a game out of it, like it was some kind of carnival game. I was embarassed: I'm not sure if it was for Yartka or myself.
A few minutes later another man walked by, his arms full of groceries. He too stopped, but his eyes were filled with compassion. Once again he looked as me, not at Yartka. "Are you hungry?"he asked, "Do you want something to eat?" Again I stared at him wordlessly as he pulled 2 loaves of fresh bread from his bag and handed them to me. I managed to stammer out a thank you as he walked away. Yartka was smiling as I handed the food to her. As I rose to leave she hugged me and said , "You are my good luck charm." I didn't know what to say. I felt like I hadn't done anything. I wished that I could do more to help her. But she thanked me sincerly and we walked along the street together a bit more before parting ways. I lost sight of her in the crowd as I crossed the street away from her, fighting tears as I returned to the comfort of my home.
I have never seen her again. I look for her everytime I pass that spot, but the man with dog is the only person I've seen. I've asked friends who work with the homeless in the city center, but no one has heard of her. This city isn't so big. You see the same people time and time again. There aren't that many women on the streets in this area either. So where did she go?

"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." - Hebrews 13:2