From the Middle

Several weeks ago I walked through a department store with my boys and as is typical some were speeding ahead while another was lagging behind. I was able to get the older boys to stop for a moment while I caught up and waited for Aron. As I approached them I passed an older couple. She had her head down looking into her purse for something, her white hair was well combed and her clothes were neat and fit her well. She didn’t look overly polished, just neat and cared for. Not far behind her the eyes of her husband were wide and deep. He was following, I suspect, because he was not choosing the direction. Instead he was taking in everything around him. I noticed almost immediately that his skin had the distinct and tell tale shade of yellow that cancer often leaves on a body. I have seen it too many times to not notice. I don’t know for certain that this man had cancer, but I know he was very sick. He looked hollow and his clothes seemed to hang a little loose on his body.

I checked my boys and held them in one spot and then turned to see if Aron were catching up. He was running toward me and seemed to surprise the old woman as he rounded the perfume counter. He was all life and energy, his little legs in gear and his curls topping off a picture of young boyhood exuberance. I saw him coming and then watched the old man as Aron ran past him. When their paths crossed it was as if the man were jolted from whatever his mind had been captured in. As if Aron’s speed had created an invisible wake that physically moved the old man backward a bit. He did not smile, he did not frown, he simply watched. There was a look of interest and desire in his eyes as he stood for just a moment to watch. It was very brief. We both turned and walked our separate ways but I cannot shake the image.

I nearly cried as I took it all in. Aron in his innocence and childish rush had no idea the impact he had created. I don’t know what the man thought. I don’t know if he was reminded that life goes on, or that it is more brief than we can imagine. Maybe he thought of his own life, his children or grandchildren, or maybe he thought about this unknown curly haired boy and how much he has to learn and go through, and how little he knows of the trials to come. I don’t know.

I was in the middle that day. I got caught up in a moment that didn’t involve me at all, but I may be the only one that witnessed it. I have thought of it several times since and as our church service opened this morning it would not leave my mind. When something like that happens I often wait to see what God would teach me and as I was completely distracted by it during worship this morning I reasoned that possibly He was about to do it.

We sang…”I’m not looking back, I’m moving ahead…moving forward, forward, forward.” Pastor Davis talked about running the race with passion, vision and destiny before us. Never allowing our past, the bad or the good, distract us from the future. I kept seeing that gaunt face, that yellowed skin of that man and I thought…what if you have no future? Then Pastor talked about Rusty. Rusty was his younger brother who passed away a few years ago with pancreatic cancer. Rusty knew he was going to die and he had little time left to consider his destiny. But he lived those last months with greater joy and passion than he had ever lived before. He died with great dignity and peace. He is remembered for going with strength but not using it to fight back death, using it to lift up life. He gained the insight that death is simply a tool to gain a greater freedom and a more abundant life than the earthly imagination can contain.

I don’t know if that old man is still with us or not, but I certainly have prayed for him. My hope isn’t lost for his life.

I still hope.

I hope that that man knows exactly where he’s going. I hope that his brief encounter with Aron was not an awakening to life’s brevity, but a reminder that life continues. I hope that as he turned to stare at a child’s energy, he caught a glimpse of his future instead of his past. I hope that he runs toward the goal without fear and jumps into the arms of his Father without regret.

I hope for me too. That I’ll take that image to heart and allow it to penetrate the years, the months, the days hours and moments of my life. That I will not take for granted each day’s opportunity to live and will run my race with excellence. I’m not facing death and I’m not naive to it either. I’m somewhere in the middle, but I had the opportunity to witness the two ends passing each other that day.

I suppose this all goes against my conservative nature. My wariness of risk, my security in only what is necessary and disregard for what is superfluous. I am seeing that I can avoid the temptation to step into the unknown cautiously. I am hearing a new directive…to put aside my comfortable loafers and grab my running shoes.