"What time is it?"
The man poked my elbow and motioned towards my phone as he said it. We had been seat neighbors for about two hours, but aside from him offering me a mint earlier (I declined), we hadn't interacted at all.
"Hmm, it's 10:30," I replied. He nodded.
"How long is this supposed to last?" he again queried me. Apparently he, along with the rest of the room, hadn't found the endurance to pay attention to the 15-minute shpeel they so kindly rolled for us at the beginning of our wait.
"I think we're here 'til twelve."
"Jury duty. Man, I tell you. I can think of a lot o' better things I could be doing right now." He seemed to be on a roll now that he'd breached the silence. "I wish I'da known it was gonna take this long. Woulda eaten a bigger breakfast." He wasn't talking loudly, but the fidgety lady four chairs down stood and brushed by us, annoyed at the sudden disruption of quiet.
"And how are you, young lady?" my new friend asked as she passed. She showed no recognition of his sociable gesture and kept walking.
"Ah, well," he turned to me again. "She must not be doin' too good then."
His dark skin didn't look too weathered, though as I later learned, he'll turn 70 next month. Before he'd asked me the time, I'd noticed him pull out a copy of "Crazy Love" from the basket of his walker. Now the book was back in its spot and he wore a pair of tortoise-shell shades to block out the sun from the bright room. He sat with his feet propped up on the walker, hands folded comfortably in his lap. This amusing individual seemed quite at his leisure to now launch into an inescapable, one-sided conversation. Inescapable because I didn't have the heart to leave like our neighbor had. One-sided because, although I appreciated the respite from my [unsuccessful] quest to do something productive on my smart phone, I felt a little awkward carrying on a conversation with a man three times my age while an entire room of bored, anxious, fellow jurors undoubtedly listened and judged.
"You a student?"
"Umm...yeah."
"Where at?"
"Well, actually I'm just doing some traveling right now. Missions work."
"Ahhh..." He smiled. "So you know our Father. Daddy, I like to call Him."
I nodded and gave a small smile. I was intrigued; so happy to hear a stranger talk about Jesus this way. But I didn't really know how to respond. I never do. God is everything to me, yet the usual Christian responses are just so cheesy. What was I supposed to say? Amen, brother! Boy, ain't the Lord good.
"You know, if Daddy weren't love like He is, I wouldn't be worth anything. I'd just explode all the time, frustrated and all, yet here I am, calm and collected. He covers all that frustration with peace."
I was eating it up. I loved hearing him talk like that and I was beginning to shed my initial hesitation to talk to him. Still, my face only showed a polite amount of interest.
"I used to play the blame game with God. Gettin' all mad at Him for everything. But I just finally realized He's large and in charge. So now I just get out of His way and let Him do what He wants. What time is it now?"
I looked at my phone again. "Eleven oh one."
"One more hour!" he cheered.
We continued to talk, him a lot, me a little. Soon I learned that this man whom I'd known for all of an hour went to Tokyo in 1977 on a Buddhist pilgrimage, loves fried chicken, was planning on getting a beer and meatball sub just as soon as this waiting thing was over, and although he wore a silver band on his left hand, was not indeed married and apparently lived alone.
By 11:15, a lady came in to announce who had been selected for the jury. By the end of the list, my friend's number had been called: 977.
The room stirred as people stood and stretched. The man, whose name I never caught, gathered his cane and walker and began to make his way down the aisle. But just then he stopped, turned to me with his sunglasses and a big grin, and gave me a wave. And then he disappeared into the crowd, faded blue ball cap and all. I guess I'll never forget him, because humans make a bigger impact on other humans than we ever dare to believe.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
love letters
Brides are the definition of 'lovely'. They captivate. They carefully put on display every last drop of their beauty and proudly hold back their shoulders as they grace the aisle, knowing that they are wanted and loved.
The groom is obsessed.
He can't think about anything else except her. His head spins with how much love his heart feels for her. Though the onlookers are enraptured by her beauty {'look at her dress!' 'her hair is stunning' 'she's glowing'}, the groom is lost in it.
That's what Jesus feels for us.
A few months back, he wrote me a love letter. I've typed a portion of it below. Please read it out loud and let his words wash over you...and realize he doesn't condemn you for a thing. The only thing he requires of you is to rest in his love.
I'm standing at the altar in a little white chapel. It has vaulted ceilings just the way you like it. The crowd is glowing. All of our loved ones are packed in there, anticipating the beauty of love to commence. There are even people we don't even know well...they just knew this would be a wedding to remember.
I see the back doors open and my heart skips a beat. Is she coming? No, of course not. It's the bridesmaids. My friends behind me smile in encouragement. The flowergirl is sprinkling red roses. Everyone is in their places now. It's quiet.
The soft, beautiful music begins. Everyone stands to their feet and turn to welcome the bride. My bride. You.
Then the doors open...there you are. I haven't seen you since last night. There you stand, illuminated. Your intricately designed white gown graces your figure perfectly. Your hair falls in wisps to frame your face. Your smile is bigger than I've ever seen it.
And then I see your eyes, eyes that have tears spilling. Eyes that captivated me while I formed them. Eyes that gazed at me with trust as I grew you in your mother's womb. I love those eyes. I can tell by the look in them now that you realize it was me all along who loved you. And now you're mine, for forever.
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