Apparently I’m walking around the grocery store looking depressed as heck again because a long-bearded Son of Anarchy with an armful of snacks and sundries just told me to smile.
I glanced with trepidation and a bit of a furrow, unsure if he was catcalling or legit. But there was almost Tibetan intentionality in his focus, so I said ‘yeah’ and nodded. I walked another 2 ft when he said, still behind me, quiet and with gravitas, “We are alive.”
I stopped completely, turned and looked at him, frozen there with one hand midair holding a can from the shelf. He repeated, “We are alive,” and shrugged his shoulders almost apologetically, like he knew it wouldn’t fix whatever ailed my soul but that he was responsible for this truth anyway.
He started to walk away and I wanted to validate his gift. Let him know that it landed. Well done good and faithful Son of Anarchy. Just to stop him from walking away I called out, “You know…” and then realized I had no idea what to say next. The words weren’t coming. I gave him a thumbs up. And he saw everything it meant.
We have a million chances a day to save each other’s lives.
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Each of us should please our neighbors for their good, to build them up.
Romans 15:2 | NIV
