September 16, 2015
I sat in the old church located in the Town of Palm Beach. It was recently refurbished. Its location was ideal if you believed that life began and ended with the ocean, as the church’s view was a panoramic scene of the intercostal waterway.
Just out of its double French doors, there is a path you can travel down that leads you past a beautiful fountain. The old brick pavers forked in two directions, one to an old refurbished building and the other to a long path towards a large oak tree leading to the water. That was the best path. It was a nice place to meditate and listen to the seawater as it smacked against the rocks, stirred up by the wake of a passing boat. The sound was so soothing it was almost heaven-sent.
Gazing out from where I stood on the edge of the horizon while the sun was setting, new life was breathed into me because I had survived another day, and I once again proved stronger than I thought.
While sitting down on the wooden bench and watching the rest of the orange sky get doused by the oncoming blackness, a man sat next to me to enjoy the moment.
He was an African-American man, older, I’d say in his 70s, with graying hair, infirm, and missing a few teeth, but what he may have lacked in a physical sense was made up by his intellect and charm. He had a soft voice, a calm demeanor, and a great outlook on life.
“I’ve served this church since the 1960s, and I tell ya that sunset never gets older than I am,” he said.
“It was truly a majestic site to behold. Funny to witness such magic in the footsteps of god house,” I said.
“This church is my baby. I’ve taken care of her for a long time. Seen so many people come and go out those doors. So many good times and bad times I need these sunsets to recover and remember how small we are compared to the greater scheme of things.”
“And the church treats you good? I mean, they must if you’ve been here so long.”
“Well, it’s work. Not just God’s work but work that pays my bills. I don’t need much; I live on meager means. Not by choice, mind you. It’s just the way things worked out. And the church folks, Well, I’ve seen some good parishioners and have dealt with some bad ones, too. But I never let it affect me. I was more sad that with all these things they had, the cars, the clothes, and now these fancy phones, you’d think they’d be happier.”
“I appreciate you,” I said, “And not because of the hardships that made you stronger or the mistreatment that made you wiser. I admire you because life didn’t harden your human spirit. With each new day, when the sun rose and set, you were grateful that there was another day to reflect on your life purpose. That takes a lot of heart.”
“I didn’t want to make this a religious theme conversation, even though we are sitting on the steps of this old institution, but you’re right. I served God, which gave me meaning in a personal way and peace from within. No one needs to preach to me when I can feel comfort.”
“Your comfort?”
“It’s the fabric woven in me that only a content man can feel. And I’m grateful to be alive.”
The orange hues of the sky turned deep blue, and the stars began to dot the black dome above. The night was upon us, and the day was in the record books. We both got up from our seats and made our way up the lit pathway back toward the church.
“Do you need a ride home,” I asked.
“No, thank you, I want to enjoy the rest of the night and appreciate the moment by walking home. Not too many days left like these, and I want to savor the feeling I have.”
As he walked away, I watched. The man was grateful, and he had so little. A humbled man, disappearing in the dark, I was talking to Jesus himself for all I knew.
No comments:
Post a Comment