I'm sitting at a coffee shop in downtown Manhattan Beach. I had a
tough therapy session that's sat heavy with me since yesterday, and I'm
guessing will sit heavy with me for awhile. Friends and dancing were a
thoughtful distraction last night, but I still came home to "me" once
the constume party was over. And woke heavy to "me" upon rising. So I
decided to head west. The ocean is always a soothing comfort, and I'm
all about finding the soothe and comfort today. My studies are spread
across the table and the ocean waves about 1/4 mile away. But "me" is
still waving louder.
A gentleman in his late fifties, I'd say, asked if he could share my
table. His practically transluscent black skin spoke with a gentle
voice that invited conversation. But I wasn't about to accept. I'm in
a bad mood, and don't feel like talking. So I told him he could
certainly share the table, but that was it. That's all I wanted to
give. He complied and quietly sat down across the table. I thought
our interaction was complete.
But about 15 minutes later, I raised my eyes from my oh-so-important
Theo III assignment and saw that he was reading the Bible. With a
sunken stomach, I realized it wasn't by mistake he'd entered my
presence, but it was by mistake that I'd so quickly dismissed him. The
man's peaceful demeanor is so appealing to me right now, and yet I
don't even know what to say... How is it that my inners
know this man is a God-send to my weary soul, and yet my outers are scared to act on it?
What would it look like to really believe I was part of a Body...to
know this man was my brother...to know we would share
aspects of this table from here to eternity?
What it would look like to engage with this part of me, sitting across
the table?