Seeing Jesus

This morning I picked up my deaf neighbor from the hospital. Roger had to spend the night after having a heart cath. I went in at 7 but the hospital wasn’t quite ready. More waiting and reading. I came back an hour later and they were ready; so was Roger.

I knew he would want breakfast, so I told (wrote) him to pick the place. He played the "you decide" game until he revealed that he wanted to go to a little place in Bedford. I figured that’s where we would go, because they allow smoking.

We entered and I immediately was struck by the few people in there. Nearly all of them were–and I don’t mean this in an unkind way–not the mainstream of society. Some would use the word "misfits." You know, the ones God seems to really like.

The lady next to us "wasn’t right." She kept saying inappropriate things, and the man with her, dressed in strange clothes and carrying an oxygen tank, tried to calm and comfort her. The guy behind us had some kind of mental disability; he kept talking loudly about the weather and other things. The guy in the next booth also had an oxygen tank and didn’t look quite right.

I sat there with "Roger my deaf neighbor," that’s the way I always describe him. I guess I do that to distinguish from all the other Rogers in my life, but I’m not sure I have any others? (Sorry if you are a friend of mine named Roger! My mind is drawing a blank.) Roger ordered a half order of biscuits and gravy and coffee. He asked for hot sauce. Me? Just a cup of coffee and water. Roger said, "You know what the first thing I want to do?" as he patted his bulging shirt pocket. He pulled out his Marlboros and lit up. I shook my head at him, smiling. He smiled back, "I tell when I’ll quit smoking–when I’m pushing up daisies." True.

Our waitress was very skinny and had a 2-pack-per-day voice that was disturbingly deep. She is probably younger than she looks. It looks like life has been really hard on her. In her I saw Jesus. What? Yes, that’s right. She was kind, but a lot of waitresses are – makes for better tips. She was beyond kind, though, with the lady in the booth next to us, the one who wasn’t right.

The not right lady kept saying, "I just can’t take it any more." The waitress said, with her deep 2-pack-per-day voice, "Honey, you need to pray to God and he’ll help you."

"I have prayed but he won’t listen!"

"Oh, don’t give up; keep talking to Him."

"He won’t hear me."

"Yes, he hears you, so please keep praying, asking him to take your burdens from you." She said that with the conviction of someone who knows.

Seemed a lot like Jesus.