Never Forget
Curt and I have an addiction to ice cream. It's pathetic, but we have to constantly keep each other in check on how much we consume.
One of our more bittersweet trips to Springfield comes when we have to go to the hospital. Inevitably we are there because someone is severely sick or dying. Rarely are we there for a celebration like the birth of a child so our drive to Springfield on those days is rough.
However, we try to find a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel by promising ourselves Cold Stone Creamery after a visit. It has become a tradition.
On this particular night we had our two youngest children with us. We affectionately refer to them as the littles. I am not even sure how this got started, but it is an accurate term for this stage of life. They came to us much later than our two oldest children and they are tiny balls of energy.
After Isabel and Curt had made their visit to the hospital (Caleb and I stayed in the car and played a game called Ingress because Caleb + confinement = nightmare), we headed to Cold Stone. In Springfield, Cold Stone is just a few blocks away from the hospitals and fairly easy to get to.
Upon entering Caleb loudly proclaimed his need to use the potty. He is at the stage where every potty within reach must be used and marked. It was Curt's turn to wrangle him so Isabel and I ordered ice creams for ourselves and Caleb. When Caleb came out he excitedly grabbed his prize and ran for a table where he was joined by his big sister. Then came the wait for Curt to decide what he would order. Curt makes ordering ice cream paramount to buying a home or new car. All choices must be carefully considered and one mustn't rush the decision.
While we were waiting for Curt, Isabel discovered a book of ice cream cakes that Cold Stone makes and the squeals of excitement could be heard up and down 6th street for miles when she found an Elsa and Anna cake. Oh the joy! One lift of my eyebrow and she realized how loudly she had exclaimed her joy and she quickly quieted down.
From the back of the seating area I heard a man trying to get my attention. He was sitting up against the wall in clothing that had obviously been worn a lot. He had the look of an adult that had enough of a learning disability that he could take care of himself to a point, but not fully. It was obvious he frequented Cold Stone and many of the people there tensed up when he began to speak.
I had to walk up fairly close to him to be able to hear what he was saying. The sounds of other tables talking and the music made it difficult to hear this soft spoken man. His words came out quickly and they ran together. It took a lot of concentration to hear and understand what he was saying and I was forced to get much closer than I am comfortable doing.
His words brought an immediate smile to my face. "Ma'am, your, your, your kids are very well behaved. They listened right away when you gave them that look."
Imagine that, someone said my littles were well behaved- HA!
I thanked him for his kind words and then tried to move away for two reasons: First, talking to someone that has the potential for being homeless and wanting money from me makes me uncomfortable and you can't deny that you have had those same moments. I know it is wrong, snobbish and cruel, but I am uncomfortable. I always smile and give some sort of a greeting, but to carry on a conversation is out of my comfort zone and I had two little people I am responsible for with me and what if this man eats children for snacks???!?!?!!
OK, maybe that is unreasonable, but those are the freakish things that happen in this world and my brain runs crazy in moments that I am uncomfortable.
And secondly, I had to hurry to get Caleb out of the refrigeration unit and Isabel away from the book that had so enthralled her. I tried to give Curt an imploring, "Let's get out of here NOW!" look, which is dumb to begin with because he is blind and there is no way he could see that I was looking at him from this distance, let alone my look of pleading.
That's when I realized the man was still talking to me.
Back over to him I went to find out what he was saying because the noise hadn't diminished at all. He started telling me how happy he was to meet God's people when he was out and about. He told me his life story of where he came from and how he was all alone. He had no wife, no kids and his mother was all he had and she died of cancer.
He told me about the church he had just recently attended for 10 weeks and couldn't go back to because of some of the things the pastor had said and done in the church and he wasn't sure where else to go.
Then he took a breath. I hadn't said a word. All he got from me was a nod, an empathetic look, a nod and more sympathy.
He looked broken. He looked sad. He looked lonely.
Then he looked concerned because behind my back Caleb was back in the refrigeration unit.
I encouraged this man to find a place to worship as soon as he could. He told me about a church there in Springfield that would pick him up, serve him dinner and wouldn't even take his money for a tithe. They just wanted him to come to church. He had their number on a piece of paper in his Bible and he thought he might give them a call.
Curt and I (because he had FINALLY made his mind up) encouraged him to do just that and gathered our children to leave. As we were walking out the door, the man in the chair hit me with this;
"Please, please don't forget me. When you go home tonight, don't forget me. Maybe if you see me again you can ask how I am and if I went to the church. Please don't forget me."
My heart broke. I nodded to him, told him I wouldn't and walked out the door.
And then I looked through the window and saw him staring straight ahead and knew I had to go back in there.
We promptly turned around and Curt took over. He asked him his name (duh, why didn't I ask what the man's name was???) and asked if we could pray for him. The excitement on Bob's face was evident. He asked if Curt could ask Jesus to deliver him from his disabilities. He said he keeps asking and Jesus keeps saying no, and if he could just not have his disability he wouldn't be lonely. Curt said he would pray for God to fill the loneliness that Bob was feeling. Bob thought that sounded even better.
Curt took the hands of this beautiful man and prayed for and with him. He prayed for a church family for him and he prayed for the emptiness he was feeling to be filled with Jesus. He prayed for many other things but those are the ones that struck a deep chord within me.
I am often lonely. I often feel like I need someone to step into my life and fill that void and all I really need is God. Bob and I aren't much different.
Curt ended the prayer, Bob gave out a Yes! Jesus! and I wiped the tears from my eyes.
We grabbed Caleb out of the refrigeration unit and walked out the door, this time knowing we had done what we were supposed to do.
We had met a fellow brother there in Cold Stone. One day, I will see him again. One day he will be made whole. One day we will sing praises to our Father, together. One day.
In the meantime, I will not forget Bob.
One of our more bittersweet trips to Springfield comes when we have to go to the hospital. Inevitably we are there because someone is severely sick or dying. Rarely are we there for a celebration like the birth of a child so our drive to Springfield on those days is rough.
However, we try to find a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel by promising ourselves Cold Stone Creamery after a visit. It has become a tradition.
On this particular night we had our two youngest children with us. We affectionately refer to them as the littles. I am not even sure how this got started, but it is an accurate term for this stage of life. They came to us much later than our two oldest children and they are tiny balls of energy.
After Isabel and Curt had made their visit to the hospital (Caleb and I stayed in the car and played a game called Ingress because Caleb + confinement = nightmare), we headed to Cold Stone. In Springfield, Cold Stone is just a few blocks away from the hospitals and fairly easy to get to.
Upon entering Caleb loudly proclaimed his need to use the potty. He is at the stage where every potty within reach must be used and marked. It was Curt's turn to wrangle him so Isabel and I ordered ice creams for ourselves and Caleb. When Caleb came out he excitedly grabbed his prize and ran for a table where he was joined by his big sister. Then came the wait for Curt to decide what he would order. Curt makes ordering ice cream paramount to buying a home or new car. All choices must be carefully considered and one mustn't rush the decision.
While we were waiting for Curt, Isabel discovered a book of ice cream cakes that Cold Stone makes and the squeals of excitement could be heard up and down 6th street for miles when she found an Elsa and Anna cake. Oh the joy! One lift of my eyebrow and she realized how loudly she had exclaimed her joy and she quickly quieted down.
From the back of the seating area I heard a man trying to get my attention. He was sitting up against the wall in clothing that had obviously been worn a lot. He had the look of an adult that had enough of a learning disability that he could take care of himself to a point, but not fully. It was obvious he frequented Cold Stone and many of the people there tensed up when he began to speak.
I had to walk up fairly close to him to be able to hear what he was saying. The sounds of other tables talking and the music made it difficult to hear this soft spoken man. His words came out quickly and they ran together. It took a lot of concentration to hear and understand what he was saying and I was forced to get much closer than I am comfortable doing.
His words brought an immediate smile to my face. "Ma'am, your, your, your kids are very well behaved. They listened right away when you gave them that look."
Imagine that, someone said my littles were well behaved- HA!
I thanked him for his kind words and then tried to move away for two reasons: First, talking to someone that has the potential for being homeless and wanting money from me makes me uncomfortable and you can't deny that you have had those same moments. I know it is wrong, snobbish and cruel, but I am uncomfortable. I always smile and give some sort of a greeting, but to carry on a conversation is out of my comfort zone and I had two little people I am responsible for with me and what if this man eats children for snacks???!?!?!!
OK, maybe that is unreasonable, but those are the freakish things that happen in this world and my brain runs crazy in moments that I am uncomfortable.
And secondly, I had to hurry to get Caleb out of the refrigeration unit and Isabel away from the book that had so enthralled her. I tried to give Curt an imploring, "Let's get out of here NOW!" look, which is dumb to begin with because he is blind and there is no way he could see that I was looking at him from this distance, let alone my look of pleading.
That's when I realized the man was still talking to me.
Back over to him I went to find out what he was saying because the noise hadn't diminished at all. He started telling me how happy he was to meet God's people when he was out and about. He told me his life story of where he came from and how he was all alone. He had no wife, no kids and his mother was all he had and she died of cancer.
He told me about the church he had just recently attended for 10 weeks and couldn't go back to because of some of the things the pastor had said and done in the church and he wasn't sure where else to go.
Then he took a breath. I hadn't said a word. All he got from me was a nod, an empathetic look, a nod and more sympathy.
He looked broken. He looked sad. He looked lonely.
Then he looked concerned because behind my back Caleb was back in the refrigeration unit.
I encouraged this man to find a place to worship as soon as he could. He told me about a church there in Springfield that would pick him up, serve him dinner and wouldn't even take his money for a tithe. They just wanted him to come to church. He had their number on a piece of paper in his Bible and he thought he might give them a call.
Curt and I (because he had FINALLY made his mind up) encouraged him to do just that and gathered our children to leave. As we were walking out the door, the man in the chair hit me with this;
"Please, please don't forget me. When you go home tonight, don't forget me. Maybe if you see me again you can ask how I am and if I went to the church. Please don't forget me."
My heart broke. I nodded to him, told him I wouldn't and walked out the door.
And then I looked through the window and saw him staring straight ahead and knew I had to go back in there.
We promptly turned around and Curt took over. He asked him his name (duh, why didn't I ask what the man's name was???) and asked if we could pray for him. The excitement on Bob's face was evident. He asked if Curt could ask Jesus to deliver him from his disabilities. He said he keeps asking and Jesus keeps saying no, and if he could just not have his disability he wouldn't be lonely. Curt said he would pray for God to fill the loneliness that Bob was feeling. Bob thought that sounded even better.
Curt took the hands of this beautiful man and prayed for and with him. He prayed for a church family for him and he prayed for the emptiness he was feeling to be filled with Jesus. He prayed for many other things but those are the ones that struck a deep chord within me.
I am often lonely. I often feel like I need someone to step into my life and fill that void and all I really need is God. Bob and I aren't much different.
Curt ended the prayer, Bob gave out a Yes! Jesus! and I wiped the tears from my eyes.
We grabbed Caleb out of the refrigeration unit and walked out the door, this time knowing we had done what we were supposed to do.
We had met a fellow brother there in Cold Stone. One day, I will see him again. One day he will be made whole. One day we will sing praises to our Father, together. One day.
In the meantime, I will not forget Bob.
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