The Conversation
The old man awoke as the sun was rising as was his habit. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and just sat there for a moment feeling his body wake up. After a couple of moments he was able to stand and begin to walk to the bathroom.
Along the way his journey was punctuated by sharp pops and snaps as the kinks slowly worked out of his joints. Growing old sure ain’t for sissies he thought.
It wasn’t too long and he shuffled into the kitchen rubbing his hands together. Sure enough his breakfast companion was already there. Sitting and waiting patiently as if he had all the time in the world. The old man turned and cranked the heat up a notch and poured himself a cup of coffee. Smelling the hot, savory aroma he crossed back over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. He took his first sip of the brown liquid and swallowed. A smile spread across his face and looking at his table companion he said “You sure know how to make coffee! Thank you so much for this cup of Joe!”
A smile radiated from across the table.
Looking out the window at the golden sunrise with the cirrus clouds way up high the old man said “It’s going to be a beautiful day! Our Father sure knows how to paint a pretty picture.”
Silence. But silence with that same loving smile.
Quietly, the man sat and sipped at his coffee while he continued to take in the majesty of the scene outside his window. He thought of all the sunrises he had watched from this chair and the many, many conversations he had had with the man sitting across the table from him. He remembered the first few talks they had. All too well he remembered those stilted conversations. The times that his words just seemed to be all wrong. Instead of sparking a lively conversation it just seemed to fall flat. False is the way it felt he thought like he was talking to a stranger.
But that had changed. As they came and met each day, their conversations became more normal. They began to know each other on a much closer level. Almost intimately you could say.
Now, he and his friend could talk about anything. They would talk together, laughing and crying sometimes as they spoke together each day. There wasn’t a single thing that the man couldn’t speak openly about. Sometimes it had seemed that he did most of the talking.
So when he had felt that way, he would just stop. And listen.
Sometimes it seemed like he had waited for hours before his companion would speak. But he always did. And his reply was always soft and filled with love and compassion. He always spoke straight to the heart.
The man sometimes spoke about his wife and children telling his friend about all the issues surrounding them; how his wife had some medical tests scheduled. The doctor’s concerned. His voice dropped off for a moment and then picked up anew as he began speaking about the children, all grown now were off on their own and living good lives. Thinking of them, he again looked at his friend and with a nod of his head said “Yes. You sure bailed me out with my children. If you hadn’t stepped in when you did I don’t know where John would be now.”
“Matter of fact . . .” he continued, “You’ve always been there to help me. When I was sick for so long, you were there. I remember you coming and holding my hand as I lay in the bed wondering if this wasn’t the day for me to leave this old earth. When John was in so much trouble it seemed that prison was his next stop . . . you were there.”
The old man’s eyes softened at the memory and a tear came to his eye.
“Yes sir. We’ve been through a lot together you and me.” His gaze landing upon his friend again. Then he asked “Can I tell you what’s going on now? I really don’t know what to do or if I can do anything. It is just so big and so bad I just can’t carry it by myself any longer.”
He didn’t hear his friend move closer, but there he was. No longer across the table, his arm was around the old man’s shoulders and his ear leaned in close so he could hear each and every word that the old man whispered. Punctuated by tears and convulsive sobs the old man laid out his problems and his old friend quietly encouraged him to continue pouring everything out.
They were terrible things that the old man spoke about. But finally, his shoulders that had been weighed down by burden, lifted and he raised himself up with a new strength.
He raised his head and with those tear stained eyes he looked at his friend sitting next to him at the table and said, “. . . it’s in Your precious name that I pray, Amen.”