Tuesday, December 20, 2005

two lockers away.

The old man sits two lockers away. Most every day after my workout at the YMCA there he is. We have shared a few words, but today we shared nothing but the same row of lockers.

Today I did not feel much like talking. I should have felt like talking. Today he had just begun to change into his workout wear when I came back from the gym. Today he had ‘long johns’ as grandpa called them. It took him a short eternity to take them off one slow leg at a time.

I kept thinking. I kept wondering why I allowed this kind of silence between us. Yet, today I did not feel much like conversation. And after three or four minutes next to one another I realized. I realized that two people can go through life next to one another, and yet it is entirely possible that their lives never intersect.

It was a sad realization. Knowing that too often we are so self-absorbed. Knowing we fail to reach into the lives of others around us. Today I wanted to talk. I could not.

Tomorrow I will hope for better of myself. I can almost hear Jesus say. Who is your neighbor.

2 Comments:

  • I'm trying to figure out if I'm hearing the guilty conscience of a former fundamentalist who feels bad for not saving another soul - or - if I'm hearing the bleeding heart of a postmodern who yearns to have community with the whole world?
    Or maybe I'm just having fun at your expense?

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:38 AM  

  • I hear a poetic heartfelt response to the emotional and spiritual needs around him.

    I see a reflection of Jesus making time to banter with a woman who no one would even acknowledge, except for those who would use her.

    I feel the heart of Jesus, and the heart of Jesus is always attractive.

    -vern-

    By Blogger Vern Hyndman, at 10:43 AM  

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