Have you ever seen someone you know, out of the usual context, and not recognized them at first? Like seeing one of your school teachers at the mall, in jeans instead of his suit and tie; or running into someone in a different town, where you simply don’t expect to see anyone you know.

This has happened to me several times just over the past few months.

The first time was shortly before Christmas. I was at Wal-mart, buying toddler girl clothes for one of those Angel Tree type gift programs. Another lady was there, with a small child in her cart, looking at the same shelf of little pants and T-shirts, and we got to talking about sizes and whatnot. Pretty soon, we were discussing the pros and cons of these gift-giving things. I mentioned to her that I was doing one of these through my son’s school and two others through church. The thought crossed my mind that maybe she wasn’t a church-going person and would think I was weird for mentioning church to a stranger.

In the car, on the way home, I had this sudden recollection of who that woman was: She’d been in my RCIA class last year! But only for a few of the sessions (maybe three or four), kind of near the end, and I don’t know if she and/or her husband were actually confirmed at the Easter Vigil with the rest of the class.

I never forget a face. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized her immediately. I wonder if she recognized me and maybe that’s why she was speaking so freely to me about things.

Next story: There is a gal I see now and then at the Lutheran church. She sticks in my mind because I think she looks like a taller version of my husband’s sister—it’s uncanny how much they look alike. Well, I’ve seen who I thought was this same woman at the Catholic church, picking up her children from the Mother’s Day Out program on Tuesday mornings. I saw her just today. But I’m still not sure it’s the same person. If it’s not, there are two women in Tallahassee who look just like my sister-in-law!

These next two vignettes are the strangest of all, and very recent. Both are scenes from my morning walks. (And speaking of my morning walks, I am delighted to report that one of the moms at playgroup this morning asked me if I was losing weight! She remarked how good I looked, and how healthy and clear my complexion appeared. I haven’t been weighing myself—for fear of letting the “numbers” get the best of me; I don’t want to get discouraged and sabotage myself.)

So, last Thursday, I was nearing the end of my walk but still had maybe 10 minutes to go before I hit home. Suddenly, up ahead a little ways, I saw a woman walking towards me, on the opposite side of the street. She had two dogs on leashes—a great big dog, and a little tiny dog.

I thought, “Hm. That looks a little bit like Cathy.” (Cathy is a friendly acquaintance of mine from church, and I just love her to pieces; she is so sweet.)

But I thought, “No, that can’t be Cathy; surely she doesn’t live around here.”

(I think I had the idea that Cathy must live in a fancy neighborhood—not because she is fancy, mind you, but just because she is so beautiful and kind—this shows how superficial I can be sometimes…..a huge, beautiful house for a beautiful lady? Whatever!)

As we got closer to each other, I thought again, “That really does look like Cathy.” But I still didn’t believe it could be her.

And then she said, “Kim?!”

It WAS Cathy!

I said, “Hi!” And we stopped and chatted for at least 10 minutes. It turns out Cathy lives on that street I was walking on—she lives so close!—and she walks her dogs every morning—I just hadn’t run into her before. It’s neat, somehow, to discover that someone I’m so fond of is practically my neighbor!

Finally, the oddest of all. This actually happened just this morning, right before my walk, as I was walking Urban to the bus stop.

We were walking along, and a gentleman was heading toward us on the sidewalk. He had on a red ball cap, shorts, and a sweatshirt. His head was bent. People around here are very friendly about saying “good morning” or “hello” when passing each other on the street, so naturally I said, “Hi.”

He glanced up for just a second, looked right at me, said, “Hi,” in a disinterested voice, put his head back down, and continued walking briskly past.

About two seconds later, I came to an abrupt halt and whirled around to look after him.

“Was that Father M-?” I asked Urban.

“Father M-?” he repeated.

“I think that was Father M-!”

Then I started prattling to my poor child as we continued to the bus stop. “That looked like Father M-. But how could that be Father M-? He lives right by the church. He’s miles from home! No, that must not be him. But it looked just like him! If it is him, I guess that explains why he’s so trim—he must walk miles and miles every day!”

The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced it was both him and not him. I’ve never seen Father M- in anything but his church work clothes. I’ve never seen him anyplace but at church. So the context was all wrong. And yet, when this man looked at me, he had the same clear-eyed, guileless gaze that Father M- has. But Father M- has a strong Irish accent, and the way he said “hi” didn’t have any of that. Although, “hi” isn’t an especially rich word for demonstrating accents.

I’m sure if it was Father M-, he didn’t recognize me. I, too, was out of context. And who knows what his mind was occupied with as he walked along. But I did find out, this morning at playgroup, that the church clergy have a new rectory, which is not right next to the church, but rather somewhere closer to where I live (though no one seemed to know the exact location of it). So it could have been him.

I guess the only way to find out is to ask.

But then, what if Father M- wants his walks kept secret? What if he doesn’t want anyone to know he walks, because then folks might track him down and insist on his hearing confessions and doling out spiritual wisdom right there on the sidewalk as he’s trying to get his daily exercise in? I could ask him, and he could say, “No, that wasn’t me,” even if it was. But I suppose he’d have to go to confession, himself, for lying!

I’m being silly. I’m sure if it was Father M-, he would be truthful about it.

I guess I should just trust my initial certainty that it was him. After all, as I already said, I never forget a face. :)