The Old Man

I sat alone in the local coffee shop hoping to find a little peace and serenity. Something about the aroma of coffee puts my mind at ease.  My small booth sat in a dim corner facing the semi-busy little shop.  The thick, dark-red drapes that hung elegantly across the way blended so well with all the brown shades of the coffee decor.  Each table had been meticulously placed to create a private area for each customer.  The sales counter was stocked with a variety of chocolate treats and on each end of the counters sat large barrels of coffee beans.  Such an enticing area.  A soft saxophone melody filled my ear as I sat lost in random, meaningless thought.

The ringing of the front door bell threw me back into reality as it announced the next customer's arrival.  He was an elderly man.  And by the looks of him, not in very good health.  His broad shoulders slightly slumped forward and he carried a round belly that hung over his belt.  His steps were careful as if he walked in pain.  He was in no hurry; had nowhere he needed to be.  I studied this man more carefully as he approached the counter.  His skin looked rough and dark like a rhinos' armour.  Tattoos of his former military days hung down from under the sleeves of his shirt.  I took careful notice of the scars on his hands and face.  The wedding band on his finger had long ago lost it's shine.  His expression was hard and his mouth seemed to have a permanent frown.  The old man turned his head far enough so that I could get a glimpse of his eyes and to my surprise I saw something unexpected.  I didn't see anger or bitterness like I thought I would find, but instead I saw a hint of sadness; of longing and maybe even loneliness. 

I felt God leading me to say something to him.  "But what, God", I thought.  What do I have to say to a man three times my age?  He knows more about life than I could even begin to tell him."  So I sat and drank my coffee and tried to ignore this task God had given me.  As hard as I tried, I simply could not get back to my place of peace.  I kept thinking of excuse after excuse as to why I couldn't (and probably shouldn't) speak to this stranger.  "He probably is hard of hearing so what's the point.  Maybe I'll offend him and I wouldn't want to be disrespectful to my elders."  But God still kept whispering "Go to him." 

I guess I sat still too long because I didn't have to go to him at all.  Of all the empty tables in the shop this elderly gentleman chose to sit at the only table next to me.  "Go figure", I thought.  And with a polite semi-smile and a nod of my head I greeted the man with a ginger lift of my fingers, not really taking my hand off from around my cup to give a full wave, and looked back down into my coffee.  He responded with a nod of his head as he drank the first sip of his coffee. 

It wasn't long until the awkward silence was broken when the man cleared his throat and began to speak.  He looked down into his cup and with a harsh, smoker's voice said, "I don't know why I'm here, but for some reason I just felt like having a cup of coffee in the middle of the afternoon.  Not something I would normally do."  And he gave a slight chuckle.  "Ah, no better time like the present" I responded in cordial conversation.  More awkward silence lingered in the air between our tables.  He slowly ran his unsteady finger around the rim of his cup and the sadness in his face seemed to grow.

  "Are you from this area?  Don't think I've seen you around before?"  I asked, desperate to break the odd silence.  He sat quietly for a few seconds, starring into his coffee.  He seemed to be thinking about how he should answer.  His thick, white eyebrows came down over his eyes and a single tear rolled down his cheek.  "No" he answered still looking into his coffee. "No I'm not from around here.  I...uh....I came into town for some...uh...personal business."  And he wiped away his tear. 

"Gees", I thought.  "This guys having a tough time."  I didn't know what to say.  I've never seen an old man cry.  And as if God himself opened my mouth, without even thinking I said "Sir, I hate to be intrusive, but is there something you want to talk about?"  As if he had been waiting for years for someone, anyone, to ask that very question, he immediately began to speak. 

Tears filled both of his eyes and rolled uncontrollably down his cheeks.  His large, wrinkled fingers brushed tears off his face and he reminded me of an innocent little child. Chills ran throughout my body as he spoke, "I buried my daughter today."  He stopped for a while to let that statement sink in; tears still flooding his face. "I haven't really said it out loud yet."  He took out his hankerchief and began to wipe away his tears and continued, "I think she was 52.  I'm not really sure how old she was.  To tell you the truth, I don't really know anything about her. She was 6 when I left."  He stopped for a moment to clear his face from all the tears.  "I met my grand kids at her funeral.  Two of the sweetest young ladies I've ever met."  The old man blew his nose and wiped away more tears.  My heart broke into a thousand pieces for this man.  The guilt and sorrow he has carried for decades has brought this man to his knees right in front of my very eyes!

"You see", he continued,  "I took a wrong turn several years ago and left my family.  I thought I had more important things to do.  I turned my back on everything God had given me. I divorced my wife after 15 years of marriage.  She never said anything hateful towards me, even when I gave her the divorce papers; she just cried.  She told me she would pray for me and I knew that she meant it.  Never once did she remarry after I left.  I broke her heart and I knew it, but I was too self-centered to care."  The old man stopped for a bit to gain control of his emotions.  "The regret I have carried for over 40 years has become heavy."  I lost the love of my life. I lost my daughter.  But more importantly, in the attempt to find myself, I ended up loosing myself."  The old man grew quiet as he dried his face and dobbed the last of his tears.  God told me to keep my mouth shut, so I did.  The old man took a sip of his coffee and continued on with his story.  "She died about 10 years ago.  I started wearing my wedding band again after that.  I guess I felt like I owed it to her."  The old man turned his wedding band back & forth around his finger and let out an unsteady sigh.

The cup of coffee sitting on my table didn't seem so important now.  I sat, fixated on every story this man had to tell me. I hung on every word and felt every emotion.  All the appointments and obligations I had for that day became obsolete.  The old man & I sat for hours as he talked and as I listened.  He certainly lived a full life.  I heard more stories about his past mistakes and regrets, but he also told stories of  WWII and the Great Depression that I would've never heard on any history channel or read in a history book.  We had some good laughs in our conversation.  He described the roaring 20s like nothing I'd ever heard before.  He smiled as he told me about his first car. It was a 1925 model car that I had never heard of.  I looked at the old man as he spoke and I realized that God never intended me to go to him, but instead, God had sent him to speak to me. 

The sun was setting outside our coffee shop window.  Both of our coffees had lost their steam.  The old man apologized for keeping me and thanked me for listening to him.  We exchanged names and as he stood up he shook my hand.  Before he walked away he held my left hand in his, and put his index finger firmly on my wedding band.  With a solid look into my eyes and in a steady tone he said "Don't let this get away from you.  One day he might just be all you have left."  And with that, he slowly shuffled his way out the door. 

I sat stunned for a few seconds as the bell on the shop door rang at his exit.  I realized then that my priorities had just been changed.  My life was saved without me realizing it needed saving. I haven't lived the same since.  And not a day goes by that I don't think about the old man in the coffee shop and thank my God for using his life to change mine.

The Big Game

It's a crisp autumn evening under the Friday night lights.  You're dressed in your favorite team sweater & sitting comfortably in your portable bleacher seat.  The concession stand and restroom stops have already been made.  You are prepared to sit through this game with no interruptions for tonight your hometown high school football team will battle, head-on, against your decades old rival.  The stadium is packed and the sounds of camaraderie from your friends and heckling from your foes fills the night air.  Three minutes until kick-off.  The sounds of the players in their huddle, the referees commencing and the cheerleaders cheering gets your blood is pumping; adrenaline flowing.  This is it.  This is the game of the year.  One minute until kick-off.  The pride you have for your team makes your heart swell.  As the clock starts and the whistles blow you find yourself in a perfect place in this world.  Happy.  Content.  You would say anything and do most anything to defend your team against anyone right in this moment.  After all this is your team.  The game starts with cheers and praise from both sides of the stadium.  The opponent receives the ball and the game starts to go bad for your team at the very beginning.  Every tackle and every bad call feels like a personal  offense against you.  The tension builds against your rival as you watch them carry out planned schemes against your team.  A slight feeling of hatred slips into your very being.  Anger rages through your body at the next bad call and you find yourself amongst the crowd screaming in defense of your team.   The desire for victory is so coveted that you will do anything in your power to achieve it.  Even if it is just to cheer from the stands. 

Isn't this a lot like our spiritual life?  God loves us so much that we make His heart swell with pride.  We are His team.  He looks down at us and is happy.  Everyday we start a new game and he cheers for us.  Most days we don't hear Him.  Maybe we've become so overpowered by the opponent that we've lost our focus on the one who's rooting for us. The very opponent that makes God lower his brow.  Every time temptation is thrown our way it is a personal offense against God our Father and it makes him angry.

The good thing for us is that He would do anything to help us achieve victory and he is capable of doing more than just sit on the sideline.  He left the stadium and joined us on the field.  He put himself in the midst of the battle and died.  However, his death was not a defeat.  No, this was our victory.  We have already won the game.  All we have to do is realize that He is on our side and is still rooting for us.