This morning as I was getting ready for work, someone knocked on the front door. I opened the door to find an attractive young man wearing a tool belt standing on my doorstep. I quickly dismissed the thought that perhaps someone had sent me an early Valentine's Day present and asked him what he needed.
He proceeded to explain that he was replacing some siding on our townhouses and needed to make two quick cuts in the siding. The problem was he didn't have access to an electrical outlet and was wondering if he could use one of my outlets to connect his extension cord. I immediately had a vision of Silence of the Lambs. In the span of five seconds I imagined this man handing me an extension cord and then while my back was turned, shoving his way into my house, kidnapping me and stowing me away in his basement where I'd become his reversed version of a veal.
I plugged the extension cord into the wall and then nervously hovered near the front door as he cut up his siding. He chatted with me the whole time, telling me about how his boss left to run an errand and that's when he realized he didn't have a power supply. Then he asked me if I had caught the awful cold that's been going around and made sure I had been taking antibiotics and mucinex. Within five minutes he was done and I handed the cord back to him.
Clearly I lived to blog about it.
It was an innocent encounter. But it bothered me. I can't decide if the influences of our culture --fearfulness, suspicion, distrust -- affected me, or if it was the influence of the Holy Spirit prompting me to be cautious with this man and protect myself. Either way, I'm glad I'm not stuck in a basement rubbing lotion on myself.