May 21 – “Tears of a friend”

My good friend David came over for a visit yesterday.  He grew up in Galveston, but now he lives in Arkansas.  Ran away to California for awhile before that.  His wife was having a spa day somewhere.  Dave said that for her a spa day is the absolute ultimate in relaxation.  Maybe I'll try that sometime.  Not so sure about getting hair waxed, though.  I saw it on that great race TV show one time.  It just can't feel good.  Besides, I can't understand how in the world she could pick a day of massages and hot tubs over a once in a lifetime chance to hang out with her husband's old college roommate.  Right.   I knew David back in high school, but he was older than me.  Still is.  I remember the January day of my senior year when I showed up to go with the Baptists on a youth retreat.  I was Episcopalian at the time, but my girlfriend Debbie was a Baptist and she was going.  Mom drove me over to the church to drop me off.  I handed off my suitcase and saw David.  He was a Baptist, too.  I eased over to him and ever-so nonchalantly (so I thought) asked, "So where is Debbie?"  David replied, "Oh, she called.  She's not coming."   Now that's not what I wanted to hear.  Having never been to a church youth retreat, I had pictured a wonderful, romantic weekend.  Now that was shattered, so I asked Dave to get my suitcase back.  They had already loaded it up on the top of the old yellow bus.  I scanned the parking lot, and finally located Mom.  She was right at the exit, about to leave.  Again trying to appear much cooler than I really was (Hey, this was 1971.  It was important to be cool), I eased up to the driver's side window and smugly remarked, "Huh.  I guess I'll be coming back home with you.  I just found out Debbie's not going.  David's getting my suitcase right now."  Little did I know that David was not getting my suitcase at all.  Why should he?  He wasn't my slave or anything.  He was watching the interchange with Mom, though.    And that's when it happened.  Mom did something I would never have expected.  Took me completely off guard.  Left me speechless, stunned.  Mom smiled.  And waved.  And drove off.  She never said a word.  Slowly I turned, frustrated and confused and angry.  Why in the world would she do that?  What was she thinking?  How could she?  And then I turned my gaze to locate David.  I was determined to vent my frustrations to someone, and he was the closest one around I knew.  Finally I found him.  And did this dear friend have tears of sympathy in his eyes?  Did he rush to my side to comfort me in this time of terrible confusion?  Not exactly.  David did, indeed, have tears in his eyes.  But they were from laughing so hard that he could barely stand up.  To his credit, he did finally collect himself long enough to assure me that at least we would have a chance to play some softball at the camp.  Oh, by the way.  Since I my wonderful romantic getaway was ruined, I didn't exactly have much else to do – no hand to hold, no walks in the moonlight.  So I actually listened on occasion to the guest speaker.  And I finally got it.  That's the weekend that I understood for the first time that it was more important for me to have a personal relationship with Jesus than with Debbie.  Or anyone else, for that matter.  I needed some help with the specifics, but there was no doubt my heart was smitten.  And the rest, as they say, is history.  Well, my history.  Thanks Dave.   Proverbs 5:21 says, "For a man's ways are in full view of the Lord, and he examines all his paths."   Father, thank you for my friend David.  It's hard to think of beginning my walk with you without thinking of him as well.  Amen.