The man I met...

I saw his hands first. The way they moved, the way they lay against his sides, yet not quite against. His feet caught my attention next and my eyes traveled down... Big work boots. Worn boots. Worn over alls. Rough skin. That gate. That gate I know so well... Finally my eyes made their way to his face. To any of my co workers he would have seemed to have no expression but to me, his eyes said all that his face could not. Rage slashed its way through me like hot lava as I looked into his beautiful blue eyes. They sparkled with life and laughter and an understanding that I knew we shared. His eyes told me that he saw that I was seeing, and his eyes told me that it was ok. There was peace in his eyes. I wanted to stand in the middle of the store and scream and stomp my feet! To rail against the unfairness and the horror of it! "Why God??" He was beautiful. He looked like someone's daddy, someones grandpa, someones love. His eyes spoke of all that his face and body no longer could. Years of loving and laughing were etched into the lines in his face. Lines that could no longer crease into their natural shape. With all of my heart I wanted to hug him, this strange man standing in front of my deli counter. This beautiful life that graced our store with his strong, calm presence. There was in him the love and gentleness of the ages, the peace of a knowing God. Kindness spread from him and flowed across my heart, soothing some of the fury in me. As I sat in the front of the store making signs and talking out my anger to my friend, the cashier, I watched him. I watched as he moved slowly outside and sat down on a bench in front of the store. I watched as he enjoyed the beautiful weather. Watched as he sat in that posture I know so well and soaked up the world around him. I wanted to go and sit by him, ask him his story, hear the details of how he first knew what this thing that was stealing his life was. I wanted to put my hand in his and tell him that I am so very angry for him. I want to tell him that one of the greatest men I know is walking this journey with him. I want to talk of that man's courage and strength and of the beautiful amazing thing God is making with his willingness to submit to the tool God has chosen to shape him. I want to make sure that this man, this wonderful gift from God who visited our store, knows that he is valued, treasured, and is being crafted rather than destroyed! I watch him through our big front windows and with the anger in me there comes awe and respect. I think of all the things in my own life that I would like to change. I think of how I would give all that I own and all that I am to cure this disease for him and for that amazing man that I love and for all the other people who's bodies are slowly surrendering to the destruction of this disease.

Last night, on the way home from our date as I was telling Strider about the man who visited the store tears welled up in me and for the millionth time I had to cry about the thing I cannot change. I wonder what the world would be like if I could change it? Doubtless it would be much worse off than it now is! I think of my Jesus... His bleeding hands, His broken skin, His heart separated from the Father He loved so deeply. Jesus came, lived, died, not only to save us from our sins, but also to heal us. Every disease, every wound, every slap, every curse, every injustice ever felt or acted out... He came to destroy the death in us. I close my eyes and I see their faces, both the man from the store and that man I love, who is my hero in a million ways, and I see the face of Jesus as I know Him. HE holds the keys to their healing. I know this. He gave all that He had, all that He was, so that this disease, and every disease, has no real power. I think the man I met yesterday knew that. I think He loved my Jesus. I felt it when our eyes met, saw it in the patient way he moved, witnessed it in how he accepted his own body and worked with it. May I be so whole as him. May I show such grace as I move through every day. May I be a mirror of Christ to the world as he was to me. May my soul be healed as his appeared to be.