When
A man so old set in his rocking chair with his head bowed low in prayer.
I stopped to say hello and ask if I could help as I admired his silver hair.
“Excuse me sir, but can I be of any help? Can I ease your worries or pain?”
He looked up at me with a weak smile on his face and then rested his head on his cane.
“Young man, may I tell you a story? A story that I know so well?”
At first I was amused to be call young again, given I’m 60 years old myself,
But then as his story unfolded I understood how to him I did seem young at that.
I leaned closer to listen to this gentle man as I removed my well-worn hat.
“I was born in the year 1911” he began. “The third of seven children that my mother bore.
My father died when I was only one year old and my mother before I turned four.
I spent my childhood in an orphanage on the outskirts of Bossier City,
In those days we were outcasts it seems and we garnered very small pity.”
He stopped for a moment and seemed to reflect on those long ago days of which he spoke.
I could see in his eyes what appeared to be the haze of fires long ago turned to smoke.
He wiped at an invisible tear that must have fallen from his cataract eyes,
Then continued his story as his rocking chair creaked in time to his melancholy sighs.
“I first met the Lord when I was only eight. I gave my heart to Him that day.
I prayed the prayer of a child and I prayed that He would take me away.
I heard Him say in a silent voice, “Someday, someday, but not today.
Someday I will take you home and home is where you will stay.”
“When I was twenty-one I met the love of my life. She was a beauty both inside and out.
We soon had a son who I prayed would grow to be a man so strong and stout.
A daughter came later and she challenged her mother for the fairest in the land.
We were so blessed to have these two gifts from God, from His own tender hand.”
“We bore the times known as the Great Depression and World War Two.
A family together and, a nation like a family, in faith it seems we grew.
But in every life there are valleys and hills and roads with turns to be made.
Sometimes we swelter in the burning sun while other times we rest in the shade.”
“When I was forty-one we received the news that we so feared with dread.
Our son was serving his country far away and we learned that he was now dead.
An enemy bullet had pierced his heart and our hearts too I’m afraid.
I prayed that God would comfort us all as we dwelt on memories made.”
“One day I prayed to God that I didn’t know how much I could take.”
He whispered in my ear so soft and soothed my poor heart’s ache.”
“One day I will ask you when you are ready to come home and then,
you will only need to say when.”
“When I was fifty six my wife took sick and she slowly passed away.
My heart was broken and it was a dark time for me with no sunny ray
to comfort me or carry me through that valley so low.
But God lifted me and carried me until once again I could go.”
The old man stopped for a minute and leaned back to rest his bones.
While a myriad of birds sang their songs together with a harmony of sweet life tones.
It was then I noticed how frail the old man had become.
Yet I marveled at his inner strength and wondered where it came from.
“When I was 81 years old my sweet daughter died when a drunk driver stopped too late.
And with her she took my two grand-children to Heaven and for a while I slipped into hate.
But I realized that they were all in paradise with my sweet wife at their side,
and the hate washed away like a fierce midnight tide.”
The sun had started to set as the sky turned orange and then pink.
The old man stopped for a while to ponder and to think.
His eyes glazed over and he drew short and ragged breaths.
He seemed to be at peace though despite his loved ones deaths.
“I am the last of us now, my family, my friends all passed.
But it is the future that I look to even though I cherish the past.”
He lowered his head, I thought to rest, but a prayer he whispered thin,
