Conversations

He sat by himself a table across from mine. Shakily dipping his chicken nuggets into the little packets of sauce. His white tennis shoes, khaki pants, and checkered shirt were only complemented by the hunting-themed suspenders that barely fit around his big belly. I glanced up at him and smiled, and he smiled back.
"I wish I could use one of those things," he said, referring to my laptop.
I laughed. "They're nice when they work, but they can be pretty complicated!" I replied.

He chuckled, and that was the start of my God appointment at McDonald's this afternoon. Besides the access to Diet Dr. Pepper, one of my favorite reasons that I come here to work is because of the elderly people that sit all afternoon sipping coffee, eating ice cream, and loudly conversing about the grass, politics, their kids. I love all of it. I love college kids but I so miss interacting with the elderly population at my job in high school.

I never learned the man's name, and he never learned mine. But he was just how I had always imagined my Grandpa to be, and it was bittersweet.

He is 88 years old. He worked for an oil company until he was 81. He used to take his wife to the movies and out for a hamburger and malt for only 50 cents. His first salary was 10 cents an hour. He thought his 67 cent salary at the oil company was pretty good! He loves to talk (as I could probably tell, he told me). And he loves people. "You never waste a conversation with anyone," he said. "You always learn something from every person you talk to."

How true he was.

He must have mentioned his wife at least 5 times in our conversation. "She was a real pretty girl. Still is. She's been a real strength to me and I'm real proud of her. We've had a wonderful marriage."

During moments like that, his eyes would light up. Talking about his old job, his family, the good old days of 10 cent movies.

But then there was this unbearably painful moment were his eyes almost glazed over as the reality hit him once again. He is 88 and not getting younger. His wife is still beautiful in his eyes, but he can't be here with her forever. "I've had a real good life," he said.

Life suddenly felt overwhelmingly simple yet horribly complicated. God had placed a complete stranger at McDonald's to remind me...
-Of the beauty of people. Every single human being on this earth has a story. In the 10 minutes that I got to talk with this old man, I heard a part of his. I saw the joy of love young and old, the sorrow of mortality, the sweetness of simple life.
-Of the hope of still being in love with my spouse after 60 years of marriage. My greatest prayer is that when we are 88, we will speak of each other with a twinkle in our eye- still grateful for each other and thankful for each other's partnership.
-Of the solemn glory of birth and death. I am looking so forward to mothering children, and find the miracle of birth and adoption to be one of the most glorious processes here on this earth. Yet in that miracle is the reality of death- that life here is not eternal. Both of these things surround us at all times and it is a painful contradiction.
-Of our sovereign God. This man has been through SO much, so many years, so many changes. And I sit here with a pounding heart thinking about what comes next for us- and I'm only 21. The Lord knows the number of hairs on my head, He knows the number of our days. There is much to live for, much to gain, much to lose. Life is scary. And I think that it is okay to acknowledge that. Whether you are a high school senior entering college, a college grad entering the world, a couple expecting a baby, or a business man unsure of retirement- we can cry out to the Lord in our tears and say, "Jesus, I am scared. And I don't trust You enough. Help my unbelief." And He will. He will renew our trust, our hope, and our joy.

As the man finished his last chicken nugget he said with a smile, "Well I won't get in the way of your work. It was nice talkin' to you."
I replied, "I very much enjoyed talking to you. And I mean that genuinely."

Thankful for a God who points me to Him in the midst of ordinary conversations.