Jim

I won't deny that there was a significant longing in me to stay home.  But my wife promised to help.  She went on ahead of me, and about an hour and a half later I grudgingly got into the truck, put in my favorite 80's rock CD and turned it up as loud as it would go to help take my mind out of the present to a distant time in the past when I still had many more years to craft into the life of my dreams, and drove to the park.

I quickly made friends with a large pine tree at the perimeter of the park and sat down.  A few minutes later I met the pile of dog crap next to me.  I didn't mind.  For the next hour I looked out across the sea of people throwing Frisbees, playing catch, and then at the dinner call flocking like vultures to the tables full of hamburgers, hot dogs, chips, a multitude of side dishes, 2-liters of soda, and deserts.  The annual church picnic was in full swing.

After everyone had passed through the line, I grabbed a burger and a drink and returned to Mr. Tree and Mr. Poo.  Just as I finished, somebody caught my eye.  He was further away from the action than me, pacing back and forth, and then finally kneeling at the edge of the park watching the scene.  I couldn't take my eyes off of him.  He hadn't bathed in a while and his hair appeared to have lived through many mornings without a comb.  He was expressionless, but somehow, in a way that I can't really understand, I felt his heart.  And it hurt.  Eventually his eyes drifted my way and I waved.  No response...for a few minutes.  Then I noticed him stand, walk a ways, and stand off to my left, a few feet behind me.  I thought for a few minutes about all of the little girls running around the crowd and for a brief moment considered the worst of him.  But it quickly passed.  I stood.  And I walked toward him.

"You know, it looks like there's a lot of food left over there that's gonna be thrown away.  Ya hungry?"

"Uhh...naw."

"You sure?  I'd really hate to see us throw all of this food away if there's someone in the park who hasn't had dinner yet."

"Umm, I wouldn't feel right.  I'm not part of the church."

I stuck out my hand.  "I'm Bill."

"Jim."

"Nice to meet ya Jim.  Now we're friends.  Let's go get you some dinner."

"Man, okay...I guess you talked me into it."

We approached the table and I stopped the ladies who were already packing the food away.  "Hang on a sec.  My friend hasn't eaten yet."

I loaded his plate with a couple of hamburgers, squeezed out the last of the ketchup onto his bread, and tried to talk him into some of the vegetables and salads.

"Naw, this is great man.  I really appreciate this.  Thank you.  Where's your church located?"

"We meet at the corner of Midtown and Boxwood, across from where Memory Lane nightclub used to be.  We're there at 9:00 and 11:00.  My wife and I are there at 11:00.  Come and look for me and you can sit with us."

"I'd like that," he said with a gentle smile of gratitude far more convincing than I often see.

I had the best time at a church event that I've had in a long, long time.  And it was because I spent 10 minutes with Jim.

I hope to see him Sunday.

Comments

[Wade]

Way to engage, Bill!

[Bill Huffhine]

Hi Wade!

Good to see you again. Yeah, you know, I think that all people really want is to know that someone cares enough to befriend them. We make it all so dang complicated with our systems and programs that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to run. It's really quite simple, isn't it? Make eye contact, say hello, and be real.

Thanks for adding me to your blogroll!!

bill