pray. - Chance Encounters
So many stories are in the waiting room - just sitting patiently to be called out into the world. I keep an idea journal with me, thank you cousin April, and the list of ideas get longer each day. I imagine the person I'd be if I could just sit and write my stories for a living. More enlightened - that's what I'd be. Less of a hot mess, that's what I'd be. Lighter, that's what I'd be.
If you've read my other posts, you'd know I attended the Women's March, here in Greenville, a few weeks ago. I wrote about my experience at the march and why I chose to go. What I didn't include was the story about the rest of my day - after the march.
I left the march invigorated, empowered, inspired. I finally felt less isolated and more connected to a community. I had energy and a burning desire to use it in a way that would connect me to my neighbors - to those neighbors who were like me and different from me. All in all, I felt good leaving the march - even though I was drenched from standing in the rain for two hours.
I came home took a nap - after all I ran 6 fast miles before the march - but that's a whole other blog. When I got up, my husband and I carried on with our day and decided to have dinner at The Golden Llama, a local Peruvian restaurant owned by a super nice family who cooks super awesome, fresh food. I ordered the quinoa salad. Matt ordered some steak sandwich. We chose our usual spot at the far side of the restaurant near the back corner. There was a family eating at the table behind us - at least the mom and dad were. The kids had claimed real estate at the high top table diagonal from us. They were all under the age of eight carrying on like little kids do. They were fun to watch. One would get down from the high top, run over to their parents, play with the baby, and run back to the high top. The oldest boy would throw trash away for his parents and siblings. When he got confused, Eric, the guy sitting at the high top in front of theirs, would help guide him where to put the silverware and dirty plates. Eric was eating alone and like us he seemed to be enjoying the family's interactions with each other. Eventually, the family got up and left. They all said good-bye as they walked out. That left Eric and us in the far side back corner of the restaurant.
Our food order was called out. Matt walked over to the counter and brought our food to the table. I don't quite remember how we entered into our conversation with Eric, but it turned out to be a 20 or 30 minute conversation - a fairly deep one. It turns out Eric needed a listening ear, and we were open and available to listen - after all we are all neighbors in this community, right?
After a few minutes of small talk the conversation took a turn. We learned about Eric's parents. We learned his parents had lied to him growing up. We learned his father wasn't the best father to him. We learned there were hardships between his mother and himself. We learned he recently divorced his wife, from Venezuela, who married him primarily to get a U.S. citizenship, then cheated on him. We learned he was from D.C. and decided to move to Greenville to get away from all the turmoil he was dealing with in D.C. We learned he had an uncle and some cousins who lived in Greenville. We learned he was in law enforcement. We learned he loved South American food. We learned he shared his heart with us at dinner that night - two strangers - because he stated, "I don't know why I just old you guys all of that. It's just been on my mind. I talked to my mom today for the first time in a week or so. I learned a lot about my childhood and why things were the way they were growing up." We learned Eric needed someone and God placed us there for him. It was a chance encounter - or was it?
Now, let us fast forward a couple weeks to this past Sunday. There was an art exhibit downtown I had been wanting to check out, Through Our Eyes, and I had a fierce hankering for some sweets too. So, I twisted Matt's arm (not really) to go visit the gallery and walk to Kilwin's for a treat. It appeared pretty busy downtown. We had to park a few blocks away from the art gallery and walk in the blistering wind and cold - not that I'm complaining - to get where we were going.
The exhibit was slightly different than I had envisioned, but it was definitely worth viewing. When you walk into the building, Bertolo's Pizza is to the left, a window into Southern Tide is to the right, and straight back is the art gallery and an elevator. The room is big and pretty empty with marble floors. Along the walls leading to the art gallery were 4x6 photos that had been taken with a disposable camera. Some were pretty artistic while others were typical snapshots with a disposable camera, however, all of them exposed a sub-community that existed within a couple miles (in any direction) from my home, my neighborhood. Several of the photos had been enlarged, framed, and hung in the gallery. Underneath each photo was a story from the photographer. Each artist was homeless and each photograph told part of their story. There was a donation box under each photograph.
As we were leaving, Matt pointed out the Southern Tide store. "How ironic is it that these walls are lined with photos of homeless people, and there's a store right here where the cheapest shirt is $50 bucks or more." I grimaced a little and hung my head low as we walked out of the building. We took a right up Main Street toward the Hyatt to Kilwin's. As we approached Noma Square, I heard this soulful, bluesy music. When I looked up, I noticed it was a man singing in the square. His eyes were closed. He was bundled up in several layers of clothing. He was singing from his heart. You could hear it. There were people sitting on the enclosed patio at Roost staring at him. We smiled as we walked by. Then, he changed his tune to a different song. He started singing Amazing Grace. I found myself starting to sing along.
His voice was silenced by our entrance into the ever so pricey Kilwin's, but I wanted what I wanted. It took me some time to decide on my choice of candy - I'm a horrible decision maker. I finally settled on a pecan turtle. It was like $7.00 for this somewhat medium/large piece of candy, so I was thinking about how good it better taste - after all my heart was set on a praline, but they were fresh out. Anyway, we exited and the singing was audible again. I started thinking how I should've bought this man a treat but at $7.00 a pop this poor teacher couldn't afford too much. But, then again, should I put a price tag on kindness? I looked at Matt and said, "I'm going to talk to him." And, so we did.
We approached him with a smile and complimented his voice. He smiled ever so big and said thank you. I told him how his voice had made me smile and had made my heart feel warm. He smiled even bigger. Our conversation continued for a few more minutes. We learned he loved God - a lot. He quoted several scriptures mentioning we are all God's children. He mentioned God loved everybody - no matter what. He talked about God's grace toward us and how we should try showing the same grace and love toward each other. We learned he walks the street in the same spot nearly every day singing and sometimes he'll sing until 3 a.m. in the morning - not for money (which I'm sure he had little of) - but for the love of singing. Matt shook his hand. I gave him a hug. He was no longer a stranger to us. He was a neighbor in our community, and his name is Nathan. Nathan needed someone to show him compassion, and I needed his voice to warm my heart. It was a chance encounter - or was it?
For all I know, Nathan's photographs were hanging in the art gallery we had just left. Or, maybe Nathan lives in the section 8 apartments a block or two down North Main Street. Or, maybe, Nathan has a nice warm, safe home to go to. Either way, he is our neighbor. He is part of our community. He is a person worth loving - just like Eric - just like you - just like me.
These chance encounters touched my life and enhanced its color. In these interactions with Eric and Nathan, I was awake, aware, and living in the moment. My phone was out of my face and out of reach, and I connected with another human. I needed that interaction with them as much as they needed it with me. I needed that feeling of human connection within the community I walk blindly through every day.
I pray we, as a society, wake up, put down our technology, and get outside our comfort zone to interact with one another. I pray we take the time to share our love and kindness with one another, even though we are all so different. I pray we slow down, examine who we are, and ask ourselves, "Am I who God meant for me to be?" I pray we all spread more of God's love - no matter which God you pray to. I pray we all stop walking blindly.
#spreadlove #chanceencounters #stopwalkingblindly
If you've read my other posts, you'd know I attended the Women's March, here in Greenville, a few weeks ago. I wrote about my experience at the march and why I chose to go. What I didn't include was the story about the rest of my day - after the march.
I left the march invigorated, empowered, inspired. I finally felt less isolated and more connected to a community. I had energy and a burning desire to use it in a way that would connect me to my neighbors - to those neighbors who were like me and different from me. All in all, I felt good leaving the march - even though I was drenched from standing in the rain for two hours.
I came home took a nap - after all I ran 6 fast miles before the march - but that's a whole other blog. When I got up, my husband and I carried on with our day and decided to have dinner at The Golden Llama, a local Peruvian restaurant owned by a super nice family who cooks super awesome, fresh food. I ordered the quinoa salad. Matt ordered some steak sandwich. We chose our usual spot at the far side of the restaurant near the back corner. There was a family eating at the table behind us - at least the mom and dad were. The kids had claimed real estate at the high top table diagonal from us. They were all under the age of eight carrying on like little kids do. They were fun to watch. One would get down from the high top, run over to their parents, play with the baby, and run back to the high top. The oldest boy would throw trash away for his parents and siblings. When he got confused, Eric, the guy sitting at the high top in front of theirs, would help guide him where to put the silverware and dirty plates. Eric was eating alone and like us he seemed to be enjoying the family's interactions with each other. Eventually, the family got up and left. They all said good-bye as they walked out. That left Eric and us in the far side back corner of the restaurant.
Our food order was called out. Matt walked over to the counter and brought our food to the table. I don't quite remember how we entered into our conversation with Eric, but it turned out to be a 20 or 30 minute conversation - a fairly deep one. It turns out Eric needed a listening ear, and we were open and available to listen - after all we are all neighbors in this community, right?
After a few minutes of small talk the conversation took a turn. We learned about Eric's parents. We learned his parents had lied to him growing up. We learned his father wasn't the best father to him. We learned there were hardships between his mother and himself. We learned he recently divorced his wife, from Venezuela, who married him primarily to get a U.S. citizenship, then cheated on him. We learned he was from D.C. and decided to move to Greenville to get away from all the turmoil he was dealing with in D.C. We learned he had an uncle and some cousins who lived in Greenville. We learned he was in law enforcement. We learned he loved South American food. We learned he shared his heart with us at dinner that night - two strangers - because he stated, "I don't know why I just old you guys all of that. It's just been on my mind. I talked to my mom today for the first time in a week or so. I learned a lot about my childhood and why things were the way they were growing up." We learned Eric needed someone and God placed us there for him. It was a chance encounter - or was it?
Now, let us fast forward a couple weeks to this past Sunday. There was an art exhibit downtown I had been wanting to check out, Through Our Eyes, and I had a fierce hankering for some sweets too. So, I twisted Matt's arm (not really) to go visit the gallery and walk to Kilwin's for a treat. It appeared pretty busy downtown. We had to park a few blocks away from the art gallery and walk in the blistering wind and cold - not that I'm complaining - to get where we were going.
The exhibit was slightly different than I had envisioned, but it was definitely worth viewing. When you walk into the building, Bertolo's Pizza is to the left, a window into Southern Tide is to the right, and straight back is the art gallery and an elevator. The room is big and pretty empty with marble floors. Along the walls leading to the art gallery were 4x6 photos that had been taken with a disposable camera. Some were pretty artistic while others were typical snapshots with a disposable camera, however, all of them exposed a sub-community that existed within a couple miles (in any direction) from my home, my neighborhood. Several of the photos had been enlarged, framed, and hung in the gallery. Underneath each photo was a story from the photographer. Each artist was homeless and each photograph told part of their story. There was a donation box under each photograph.
As we were leaving, Matt pointed out the Southern Tide store. "How ironic is it that these walls are lined with photos of homeless people, and there's a store right here where the cheapest shirt is $50 bucks or more." I grimaced a little and hung my head low as we walked out of the building. We took a right up Main Street toward the Hyatt to Kilwin's. As we approached Noma Square, I heard this soulful, bluesy music. When I looked up, I noticed it was a man singing in the square. His eyes were closed. He was bundled up in several layers of clothing. He was singing from his heart. You could hear it. There were people sitting on the enclosed patio at Roost staring at him. We smiled as we walked by. Then, he changed his tune to a different song. He started singing Amazing Grace. I found myself starting to sing along.
His voice was silenced by our entrance into the ever so pricey Kilwin's, but I wanted what I wanted. It took me some time to decide on my choice of candy - I'm a horrible decision maker. I finally settled on a pecan turtle. It was like $7.00 for this somewhat medium/large piece of candy, so I was thinking about how good it better taste - after all my heart was set on a praline, but they were fresh out. Anyway, we exited and the singing was audible again. I started thinking how I should've bought this man a treat but at $7.00 a pop this poor teacher couldn't afford too much. But, then again, should I put a price tag on kindness? I looked at Matt and said, "I'm going to talk to him." And, so we did.
We approached him with a smile and complimented his voice. He smiled ever so big and said thank you. I told him how his voice had made me smile and had made my heart feel warm. He smiled even bigger. Our conversation continued for a few more minutes. We learned he loved God - a lot. He quoted several scriptures mentioning we are all God's children. He mentioned God loved everybody - no matter what. He talked about God's grace toward us and how we should try showing the same grace and love toward each other. We learned he walks the street in the same spot nearly every day singing and sometimes he'll sing until 3 a.m. in the morning - not for money (which I'm sure he had little of) - but for the love of singing. Matt shook his hand. I gave him a hug. He was no longer a stranger to us. He was a neighbor in our community, and his name is Nathan. Nathan needed someone to show him compassion, and I needed his voice to warm my heart. It was a chance encounter - or was it?
For all I know, Nathan's photographs were hanging in the art gallery we had just left. Or, maybe Nathan lives in the section 8 apartments a block or two down North Main Street. Or, maybe, Nathan has a nice warm, safe home to go to. Either way, he is our neighbor. He is part of our community. He is a person worth loving - just like Eric - just like you - just like me.
These chance encounters touched my life and enhanced its color. In these interactions with Eric and Nathan, I was awake, aware, and living in the moment. My phone was out of my face and out of reach, and I connected with another human. I needed that interaction with them as much as they needed it with me. I needed that feeling of human connection within the community I walk blindly through every day.
I pray we, as a society, wake up, put down our technology, and get outside our comfort zone to interact with one another. I pray we take the time to share our love and kindness with one another, even though we are all so different. I pray we slow down, examine who we are, and ask ourselves, "Am I who God meant for me to be?" I pray we all spread more of God's love - no matter which God you pray to. I pray we all stop walking blindly.
#spreadlove #chanceencounters #stopwalkingblindly
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