We sat in chairs waiting for our number to be called, and he sat down beside me.
It happens often, I must have a likable face because they always speak.
He spoke of his life as a volunteer fireman, and I wondered how he still was one, looking near 80 years young.
“my father was and his father before him.”
I don’t know much about firemen other than that they do what their title says, so I listened and nodded. Saying “oh fun.” or “that’s interesting”
I found myself drawn to his hands…smoothed with age and work.
“I don’t hold the hose anymore, I do the dispatching and work on the engines. I climb all around and fix what needs fixing.”
We spoke of his upcoming vacation to the mountains and then watched the rain outside the window.
He never asked me a thing, just shared a bit of his story.
Looking in my eyes and needing me to hear.
I often wonder what it is about the old that makes them share so freely. I love it and am drawn to their stories.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again, his words today will not remain long, nor will his gentle smile, smooth hands, or the hearing aide he wore.
But I’m glad I got to listen to his words today. We all have a story. Something to share and something we want heard. I looked at him today and wondered who he was as a young man, what his life was like.
I pray for him now, that God would be with him. That if he doesn’t know THE SAVIOR that he will before his last day. I pray that he will know joy and will be safe.
maybe one day, when I am old and smoothed with age, some dear young mother will lend an ear to me.