As graced as they

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)

Is it a prayer or a hope? Both, I suppose, for what is hope but prayer born in a place deeper than any we command? It appears in unexpected moments when the heart finally sees what it truly wants, the end which alone can satisfy the restless longing for that elusive something we can neither name nor attain.

But there it is, my heart’s earnest hope and truest prayer, appearing in an instant on a Facebook page, posted by a soul I knew 40 years ago and treasure still. Her post? A photo of an old man, Ed, shuffling across the sidewalk outside a Lincoln, NE church. I neither know nor have met him, though I have met his like many times and in places, near and far.

Hand in hand with a boy, 11 or so, he makes his way in sunlight far less radiant than his smile, to say nothing of the solicitous warmth of several who look on, likely concerned he will fall. A strong wind would surely topple him. But no worry creases his face, just joy in the moment, loving being loved by those he loves. What could be better?

I have no idea of the history these faces have shared beyond what the post tells. It seems Ed often woke at 4 a.m. to bake bread for friends, delivering it to their door. But his labor of love is over, complete. He has passed into the Blessed Source of the love and smiles that reach across the miles to moisten my eyes and console my heart with a vision of the beauty for which we are intended.

I want to be like Ed, like so many old souls I’ve known who learned Love’s lessons and lived them full ‘til the end of their days. This is my prayer, the beauty I long to be and share, giving and receiving the love of the Love who dwells within us. It has been my hope since I was a young man, blessed by souls nearing the end of their days who breathed the Love who lived in them.

So thanks, Jackie, for your post. And thanks, my Lord Jesus, for choosing to live in the likes of Ed and so many who have blessed me along the way. Thanks, too, Holy One, for the plains of Nebraska where once I lived among souls so much richer than mine. May I be, one day, as graced as they.

David L. Miller