Two compliments in two days warmed my heart.
The first came from a 23 year old who lost his father this past year. We were working side by side cleaning churches when he said,
“You remind me of my dad, the way you work fast and smile at the same time. My dad was like that.”
His eyes glimmered as he spoke. Later, when the work was done, he shook my hand with a depth that felt like a Thank You.
The second came from an 80 something year old man I have known for decades. He owns the health food store where I once worked in the late 2000s. Every fall he stops by the greenhouse for mums. His presence is magnetic and he calls me by name.
He is known for reading numbers, for tracing meaning in birthdays and ages. People respect him for his wisdom and the depth he carries. I don’t put my faith in numbers, my trust is in the Lord, but I’ve always found it interesting what he sees.
When he walked in this time, I asked him to tell me what my numbers mean for the year ahead. He asked for my birthday and how old I’d be. Then he looked at me and asked, “Do you want a wife?”
“I do,” I said.
“Of course you do. You have a heart to lead a family.”
Then, in a gesture rare for him, he grabbed my hand and held tight.
He said, “It’s already laid out. You don’t know how this is laid out, but it is. Trust.”
He paused, then added, “Give it 16 months or so. Something will happen.”
“One more thing…” he said.
‘What?’ I asked, feeling excited and intrigued.
“Don’t be so damn stubborn! Stay soft.” And after he said it, he winked.
I just stood there, quietly stunned. His words landed.
I wanted to believe him. Of course I did. Not in “reading numbers,” but in the hope his words carried for me. He had no idea what my previous two months have looked like.
I don’t care how he arrived at his conclusions. My heart stirred.
Two voices, one from the young and one from the old. One saw a father, the other saw a husband leading a family. Together they reminded me of my calling.
To be a good man.
Perhaps that is how life speaks. We glimpse who we are becoming through the eyes of others. Sometimes before we can see it ourselves.