A Window Seat at the Cafe

I was seated alone, staring out the window of the small cafe when I was startled by the robust greeting, "HEY CLINT!"

I turned to the visitor atthe table, wondering at whom I was looking, somewhat annoyed since I was hoping to read a newspaper, drink coffee, have breakfast, and just be alone.

"Hi." My mind was racing. Who in the world is this person? Why do I know you? How did you find me? What do you know about me?

It was then that this man sat down across the table from me at the booth by the window.

Ummm, I didn't ask you to sit.

"You don't know who I am do you?" He asked.

"Sure. I do."

"Then how do you know me?" It's getting worse at this point.

"I don't. I'm sorry. Please forgive me." (It's my nature to seek forgiveness, even though I didn't ask this guy to sit down at my private table with a chipped corner.)

"You were the minister at my great-aunt's funeral three years ago." (Oh YEAH, how could I forget?)

"Who was your great-aunt?" I asked.

"Just so you know, I really thought your service was crap. It made me mad. Thought I'd just tell you that. I didn't think you should be talking about her, or a God who didn't care anything about her." (Well, cool. Seems like things are looking up in this conversation. And who was your great-aunt?)

"You know what..." (just calm down and don't use the big bad words) "I'm not sure who..."

"Wait a minute, calm down friend," He shot back.

"Okay FRIEND, what's up?"

"After a few months I kept hearing you talk about my Aunt Gaga, and, well, I felt good about her new home you were talking about. One with no hospitals or stuff like that where people never cry. Aunt Gaga was like my mother and grandmother."

"So you're...."

"Let me finish!" he said. "I started attending a church on Saturday night."

"Why didn't you come to Westmont or talk to me? I'm just curious."

"I didn't like your church, or you. I just realize that you were sayin' the truth. Aunt Gaga was better. I thought I'd come over here and tell you that even though I don't go to your church. The church made a difference."

"Well, thanks I guess."

With that we finished our odd conversation and I resumed my stare out the window onto the red brick downtown street. What in the heck just happened?

As my eggs and toast arrived and the waitress brought more coffee, "Ericka," the waitress said, "He's a piece of work huh?"

"Yeah, he's a piece of work."

I finished my breakfast quickly, headed out to my truck in the parking lot and saw that, "piece of work," helping an elderly man into the passenger's seat of his truck. My hateful side thought, "What are you going to do? Take him to the country and dump him in a ditch?"

Then I realized that we scatter seeds that God grows. He is the one who determines the harvest.

As I watched from afar, I saw great care and concern and knew that this man was a, "piece of God's work."

Even if he goes to the wrong church.