The Visitor...

Yesterday, late afternoon, there was a knock on my door. I had just walked home from voting, and had changed into sweatpants. But, the knock on the door was different than any knock I had heard before. It got my attention. I opened the door.

There he was, the same man I had met on the road to the cobbler's shop just last week. He had come to see me. I asked him to wait a moment outside while I changed into proper outerwear. I met him in the communal outdoor area. He and I sat facing each other on picnic tables. He told me he had just had another surgery last week. That made a total of three surgeries in a twelve month period. He had had a stroke, then internal bleeding, and most recently a hernia. I sat there facing him. He told me he was seventy years old. "Seventy?" I asked incredulously. In his tank top tee-shirt, shorts, bronzed muscular arms and legs, he looked to be no older than forty-seven. "Many other men might not have survived one of your health issues and surgeries, let alone three." I said. "You are very blessed. Many people have been praying for you this past year." I added. "How do you know?" He asked as if testing me. "Your house of worship has a bulletin. I've seen your name in it under special intentions. And, I do believe in the palpable power of prayer. I call it, P.O. P. for short." I smiled.

"P.O.P.?" He smiled too. As he sat there sharing his journey with me, I wondered what had possessed him to make the long walk from his home to mine, especially since he was still in the process of recovering from his hernia surgery. "Is it safe for you to walk?" I asked. "My wife is worried about it. But, my doctor said it is okay to go for short walks. This is my outing, my visit to you." He said. Half his body was still partially paralyzed from the stroke. His arm was in a cast of some sort, to keep his hand and fingers from curling inward. His speech was slurred. He spoke slowly, deliberately.

Had God inspired this man to seek me out? If so, why? Who am I? Dearest reader, you should know that I am the town fool, an object of scorn and ridicule. But, this man, who sat opposite me, is a man of importance, wealth, power, prestige, and position. As I sat there listening, I thought of a little boy who lives far away. He lives with autism. His mother writes to me about his journey in life. That little boy quickly became one of my heroes. He told his mother that sometimes he hates living with autism. She held him as he cried. Maybe, that's what life is about, taking turns comforting one another? That little boy taught me a very grown-up lesson in empathy. So, maybe that was what this man sitting opposite me was seeking, shared empathy?

Rabbi Harold S. Kushner is spiritually correct when he writes that sometimes bad things happen to good people. It is how we choose to respond to the changed circumstances in our bodies and in our lives that can help us move forward into the light, or keep us stuck in pain-filled darkness.

Of course, we mourn the loss of who we once were. And the mourning process is often re-visited throughout our changed lives. There may be things we simply will no longer be able to do. But, then there are things we can do.

This seventy year old man was a champion wind-surfer just three years ago. He lamented the loss of his wind-surfing days. I told him that he was still a champion, just a different kind of champion.

I walked him half-way back to his house high on the hill. Even post-stroke, he was still in better physical shape than I. He had barely worked up a sweat, while I was doubled over, out of breath!

A big dog came up to my neighbor. The dog smiled and nuzzled him. "Do you know this dog?" I asked, amazed at their bond. 'No, we're just good friends. We meet every so often by the side of the road."

God is love.