Groceries, Statues, Tires, and Sweet Old Men

Ever feel a tug on your heart...a pull to do something you wouldn't do naturally? Mine often revolve around the elderly. I see an old woman working at a fast food restaurant and immediately feel compassion. Does she HAVE to work here? Did her husband die and she needs community? Do her children refuse to visit her and she's lonely?

Old Man #1: One time I drove by a supermarket after loading my Jeep with my purchases. An old man crept slowly by, doubled nearly in half with an extreme case of osteoporosis. He was only about 4 and a half feet tall thanks to the degeneration in his spinal column. My heart ached for him. How would he reach up to the shelves? Could he even stand up straight enough to see the items? I drove on by, in a hurry to get home. I felt invisibly dragged back to the store but drove on and out of the lot, hoping that the tugging would subside the farther I got from the old man. It didn't. It felt like I was tethered to the store.

So...I did the only (in)sane thing. I turned around, parked the Jeep again, and walked timidly up to the man, still only trying to pry a cart loose from the death grip of the cart stack. I sweetly said, "Good afternoon! Would you like help shopping today?" I already attributed words to this man, knowing he would be so grateful that he would gladly accept. To my surprise, he said, "No, thanks." No thanks? But wasn't that God that had lassoed my heart and prompted me to turn my Jeep around? Was this just a test? I asked again, but the man kindly said he could manage on his own.



Old Man #2: The setting - Iwo Jima World War II Memorial in Washington, DC. This man was with no one. He spoke to no one. He looked around with a gentle gaze. He stared at the Memorial and it made me wonder. Was he a WWII veteran? Was he one of the men in the statue? Where was his wife of 60 years? What was his story? What was HIS story?

The words echoed in my heart and my head. I felt drawn to him, yet...extremely shy. I wavered back and forth. I wanted to walk up to him, sit next to him on the marble bench, and let him relay a story he's been holding in for years. I imagined that he looked at the cars flying by; teens on their cell phones; people in a hurry and too busy to sit and hear a story of years gone by...of a world we can only imagine...of glory, heroism, and tragedy only captured in epics like "Band of Brothers". And here was my opportunity. My feet felt glued to the pavement. I only stared as he looked left, looked right, and looked up. And then, just as I was about to overcome my trepidation, he picked up his cane and slowly - gently - sauntered down the hill and away from me - and the Memorial - forever. I still feel guilty. I know I missed out. I know it was God giving me an opportunity to listen to Him.

Old Man #3: The X-Challenge Adventure Race was well under way. We successfully completed the ropes and challenge course with only a 15-second penalty. It was my turn to take on the second leg of the race...alone. After my initial discouragement and desire to throw in the towel (I couldn't face 10 miles of the grueling sand, dirt, and steep mountain bike paths), I caught up to the pack and was zooming along, determined to help my team bring home the gold. Flying along the path, I zigged here, zagged there, and felt confident.

Mile 4.5: We zipped by a little old Hispanic man, clomping down the path. Immediately, I thought, "Oh, that man looks all alone. Maybe he's lonely. Someone should talk to him and keep him company on this trail. I bet he has a story to tell."

Mile 4.65: My tire blew and I was riding a completely flat tire on the rim. Complete and immediate stop. My race was over, or so I thought. And then, guess who came sauntering up? The little old Hispanic man. He offered his help and then, we just walked, and talked. I learned about his shoulder, his bike accident last year, his need for surgery, his passion for fly fishing, his refusal of surgery that would end his love of fishing, how he usually takes his road bike on a 40-mile stretch on the other side of town... It was like God just sent a dart to pop my tire and MAKE me slow down. Talk to him. Keep him company on a little bit of his life's journey. The Gator came and the race crew helped me put on a new tube and get me on my way.

Life lesson: Often, we just need to stop in the middle of the rat race, our busy schedule, or agenda and plans. Look for those who are alone, hurting, in need...and just do something out of the ordinary. If we don't, God will find ways to make it happen.

And by the way, we took 3rd place in the adventure race...