A bloody nose seems to be standard protocol for me. They happen fairly often, so it’s usually not much of a surprise. That’s why I stock extra Kleenex in my backpack. It’s happened more than once that while I’m on the bus or waiting for the bus my nose will start bleeding.

Today it happened while I was between buses. I step off one bus, walk half a block, and get on another bus. Just before the second bus pulled up my nose started bleeding. Not a big deal. Although I’ve learned from experience that bus drivers aren’t too keen about letting you on the bus when you’ve got a bloody Kleenex held to your nose and blood smeared on your fingers. One bus driver actually told me I had to get off the bus if I had a bloody nose. I told him it stopped. Another bus driver shrugged his shoulders and apologized for not having any Kleenex.

But since I was at the bus stop, I figured my best bet would be to sit down with my Kleenex and wait for it to stop. I’m usually early to work anyway, so I had no reason to hurry. I sat down, Kleenex to nose, blood on fingers, waiting for it to stop. My eyes focused on the concrete sidewalk, but I could see the people rushing this way and that way, catching their buses and walking in to work.

Then I started to wonder if anyone would stop to see what was wrong. If someone was sitting on the sidewalk with blood on their fingers and a Kleenex held to their nose, would you stop to help? And what kind of help would your, or could you offer? It’s not like I needed help. I had a travel pack of Kleenex, and that’s really all you need. But I was still curious what people would do.

Just when I thought no one would stop, a woman slowed down, and then walked up to me. I was looking at the concrete, so I couldn’t see her face. She asked what was wrong, and I said it was just a bloody nose, no big deal.

And then she did something interesting. She started praying. She prayed for my bloody nose to stop in Jesus’ name, for the Holy Spirit to stop my bleeding nose. I smiled, and kept staring at the sidewalk. She said Amen, and walked on.

I cocked my head to watch her go, pastel pink jacket and baby blue shoes. That was it. Just a prayer. No Kleenex, no words of encouragement, or well, anything. Just an odd, charismatic prayer. It’s not like a needed anything, so maybe it’s exactly what I needed. A bit of divine provision. But is this the kind of assistance elderly women often doll out to strangers? An odd prayer? It may have been fine for me, but I wonder how it would have suited another? Perhaps that’s asking too much, stretching too far, taking this out of context. And that is a bit unfair. But I can’t help but wonder.

At any rate, when I finished watching her go, I carefully eased the Kleenex away from my nose. The bleeding had stopped.