He arrived uninvited to our morning coffee time. He didn't introduce himself by name, in fact he didn't speak a word, just looked and listened in an inquisitive manner. He hung around awhile till, later in the day, when he had gone, I wrote these few words.

Not a person-to-person encounter, but real enough.

How often do we meet other people in a chance encounter that lasts only a short time, a brief exchange of words and then go on our own way. Sometimes it is a meeting that is quickly forgotten, yet now and then the echo remains, something that was said, a look, a recognition of common understanding, over all too soon. We are aware of the effects of the meeting on ourselves but what about the person we met, how did we affect them?

As a teenager in London I remember visiting my local library one Saturday morning. When it came to the time to have my books stamped with the loan date, the man behind the counter asked if the small cross in my lapel was a Catholic group. In fact it was the KBS - Knights of the Blessed Sacrament - badge. We started talking. It transpired that he was a Methodist under instruction to become a Catholic. We remained friends for years after that and I was privileged at attend his reception into the Church a few months later.

The encounter of Mary with Gabriel at the Annunciation was also a passing moment but one of great significance when the words of the angel were greeted with acknowledgement and consent to motherhood.

Our present times have brought us another casual, some would say ephemeral, contact point. We exchange many emails, often with people we have never met but whose friendship has grown from common accord and so developed over years. Just because we have never met doesn't lessen in any way the understanding and appreciation that comes from such an exchange. The words of Psalm 39 touch on this beautifully.

As a flat stone skims of the surface of a pond, having little contact with the surface during its short flight till finally it sinks. The rest of the water surface experiences the consequences of its flight as the ripples spread.

An Anglican priest I once met on Lindisfarne later wrote me a letter which concluded with these words: "We may never meet again but thanks for the lift on the way". I value greatly those few words.

Whether it is a bus-stop chat or a coffee-house exchange, we need be careful what we say and the tone in which we say it. As with so many things, we are unaware of the long term consequences of what we do or say, so our care must be that, in both words and actions, we are sensitive to others.

Our contacts with God often come through experiences shared with other people. Whereas we might drift away, not recognising the opportunity offered to us, the good Lord remains awaiting our return.

Many years ago, one Saturday morning I rang the doorbell of the nearby Benedictine abbey, hoping to speak with one of the nuns who subsequently became Abbess of the community.

Instead of passing by, pause awhile and see who might be waiting for your call. Exchange your gifts and journey on.