Even when you are walking in the park, life is not always a walk in the park.
My sister and I had just finished listening to “Amazing Grace” and we sat
in a little protected stone nook overlooking the fountain.
We were talking about my recent break up,
about our hair,
and about God and his amazing ability to interject little points of beauty and hope
into our lives.
He walked past again, but this time,
I noticed his limp. He foot was in a walking cast.
He looked in a hurry. I called out a greeting
as he passed us, and asked how the fundraising
was going. He looked tired.
“I’m in a hurry,” he explained.
“I have to finish this so I can go somewhere
“I hope you finish in time,” either my sister or I said.
I don’t remember how it happened, but somehow,
he told us that he had to go to a funeral.
He spoke of how he didn’t want to go.
My heart began to crack at his story.
Whose funeral? we wondered aloud.
His mother’s funeral.
He didn’t want to go.
His sister hated him for his lifestyle,
and he didn’t have much time left,
and he only found out that his mom passed
two days before
because his bitter sister refused to tell him.
His eyes were so tired.
What do you ask when this happens?
What do you say when a stranger speaks
How do you comfort such brokenness?
All I thought was to ask a question.
“What was your mother’s name?”
I didn’t even know his name,
but it felt important to know this little
detail. “Rebekah,” was his reply.
My sister and I looked at each other.
My sister’s name is Rebekah.
I can’t even describe his face.
It wasn’t that he almost cried,
or that we had done anything special to give him comfort.
He looked noticed.
Like he realized what we had just been singing,