BY JENNIFER EVANS GARDNER
I love to travel, but have always been a cowardly flyer, always relying on a glass of champagne and my St. Christopher medallion to get me safely to my destination. As you may know, St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers, and this particular 14 karat gold necklace was even blessed by a priest. I have never flown without it. Until I met Sherman.
Coming home last Christmas from a trip to London with my family, I was, as always, thrilled when our plane touched the runway. As we waited for our car at the curb of the crowded LAX terminal, my husband struck up a conversation with the security guard on duty. His name was Sherman. A stocky African-American man in a bright orange security vest with kind eyes, he informed my husband, then ten year-old son and I that he was currently on leave from Iraq, and was about to go back.
I don’t know why I was surprised to hear that he was a soldier. Maybe it’s that I don’t normally meet soldiers, particularly those serving in this war. I was amazed at how matter-of-fact he was at the idea of serving again. I was mortified that this man had to risk his life in a war that I, like so many others, do not believe in. I told him as much, and urged him to go to Canada instead. He chuckled at the notion, taking the time to explain to me that as a soldier, his only job is to go where he is told to go, not to decide which battles are worthy of fighting. I was moved at how at peace he seemed to be and how much faith he possessed.
As our bags were loaded into our car, a voice inside my head spoke to me. Give him your St. Christopher. I hesitated. What an odd thing to think. Yet I found myself unclasping the necklace and holding it out to him. He looked at me, bewildered. “If you’re going to Iraq, you’re going to need this more than I will,” I began, explaining that it was a St. Christopher medallion, and that he should wear it on his last tour of duty. I added that I was only lending it to him; that I, in fact, expected him to bring it back to me when he returned safely. In other words, he would have to stay safe in order to give it back to me.
In exchange, I asked if I could borrow his courage for the next time I got on an airplane, as I have nowhere near the faith that he does. As my ten year-old son looked at me questioningly, I placed the St. Christopher around Sherman’s neck, and gave him my business card (I did not ask for his number). We hugged, this stranger and I, and he promised to call me when he returned.
In the car, my son asked me why I gave a stranger my precious St. Christopher. All I could think to say was that he needed it. My husband didn’t say a single word, but I’m pretty sure he was wondering what had gotten into me. As my family will attest, I’m no saint myself – in fact, I am not even remotely altruistic. But when I felt that urge to give Sherman my St. Christopher necklace, I knew I had no choice. After all, some higher power has kept me safe all these years — had gotten my family safely home from yet another long trip — and I had better not ignore it.
Seven months have passed since that evening. Life is as crazy as always, and with summer here, I have already hosted out-of-towners, been on a couple short holidays, and began teaching my summer cooking camps. I had just finished making Parisian macaroons with a group of seven year-olds when the phone rang the other day. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway.
“Hello?” I said, but heard only a crackling sound on the other end. I was about to hang up when a voice said, “Is this Ms. Jennifer Gardner?” More crackling. For some reason, I said yes. “I don’t know if you will remember me, but if you are the person I think you are, I believe we met at the LAX airport last Christmas…” I knew immediately. It was Sherman. I asked him where he was calling from. “Falleujah,” he replied, adding, “I just wanted to let you know that I still have your St. Christopher, and I am still okay.” Tears welled in my eyes for this complete stranger on the other end of the line. I told him how happy I was to hear that, and that I was grateful for his call. I told him I had flown twice since I saw him, and that his courage was working for me as well. We talked for a few more seconds, and then he had to go. He said that he would be home in the Spring, and is planning to give me a call then to return the medallion.
I think about Sherman from time to time and smile, visualizing him wearing my St. Christopher and sending white light to him wherever he may be. I look forward to giving this unlikely friend a welcome home hug when he returns safely. I believe that he will.
Jennifer Evans Gardner is a food and travel writer, cookbook author, and owner of the Little Feet in the Kitchen cooking school. Formerly Editor-in-Chief for PeterGreenberg.com, Jennifer has also written for ePregnancy, Eating, Santa Barbara, and Kiwi, among other publications. www.jenevansgardner.com
About Karen Young
Why am I not surprised? You have always been a generous and loving person. I know Sherman will return the St. Christopher to you.