Not long ago,
And people.
and into all of this.
He came to church...sporadically.
He was kind and thoughtful.
I loved him, wished to see him more.
We talked about that often.
It was mostly easy conversation.
Comfortable.
Hopeful.
He just seemed distracted, but not distanced.
One day, he found someone
that he was talking about spending his life with.
They stood in front of me, his arm around her waist.
Beautiful smiles.
Looking at each other and then back to me.
His eyes, shining with a crystalline blue.
A joy in the both of their hearts that spilled all over their faces.
We talked about a time; maybe a couple weeks down the road,
When we would get together and
discuss what might be next for the two of them.
The date came and went.
My texts went unanswered.
Months later, they walked up to greet me after service.
Remarking how the message had spoken to them.
Same beautiful smiles.
We hugged.
Talked about getting together again.
But we never did.
And now he's gone.
In a tragic story; which doesn't feel like the main point of this.
I believe Jesus' arms were strong enough
to catch him, and keep him.
What I hate is the "in-between" of it all.
The struggle I know he felt.
He had to make choices.
Those choices bore consequence.
I know it.
The church doors were always open.
Many people had offered him sanctuary there,
And even in their own hearts.
But today, I'm thinking about what shapes our choices.
This young man felt he had to leave home at 15 years old.
He tried to navigate life, mostly on his own from that day forward.
The day to day of his experience, so young, had so many more obstacles than mine.
And....I wonder...
Just how hard it must be to escape the whirlpool of
abandoned houses and bikini coffee shops.
