Rear View Mirror

What have I become, my sweetest friend.

Johnny Cash or Trent Reznor.  I can't even say I prefer one over the other.  I suppose, it's just the lyric.  Maybe, the images conjured up of those faces waving in my rear view mirror as I reflect on all the twisted and bending roads that led me to...

Now.

I hate those moments where I walk in reverse because I don't want to lose sight of her face.  One second, we are inches apart.  The next, she is just a shadowy figure in a crowd.  I hate making that 180 because... because, she is just so beautiful.  And I love her.  Mostly, its because it could be the last time.

I suppose I worry too much about proverbial rear view mirrors.

Everything runs full circle anyway.

If I were to list each person who has greatly impacted my life over the years, I would not be able to recall ever saying goodbye to any of them.  I think about that.  I never said goodbye to my 5th grade teacher or that one best friend or that first love.

There never were goodbyes because I knew...

We all know...

Because I knew, they would be as much a part of me now as they were then.

Formal goodbyes are reserved for those temporary crutches, for those who impact us minimally, for those who served their purpose for a specific moment in time.

But the rest, those who impact us greatly, never engage in goodbye rituals.

I think about that when they stumble back into my life, years later.  Be it, an old snapshot in a photo album or just a passing thought.

I remember them vividly because we never let go of those who helped us become who we are today.

I saw my old pastor tonight.  82 years old and he looks exactly how I remember him 30 years ago when I first met him.

Oddly, maybe ironically, I don't remember the last time I saw him.  And that's how it always is with those who impact us greatly.

The rear view mirror only exists for those we intentionally leave behind.

I would be surprised if he remembered me.  I was an awkward kid; no different than all the thousands of awkward kids he has mentored through the years.

I saw his face.   Here.  On my laptop.  I believe I found him for a reason.

So, I wanted to reintroduce myself to him.  More importantly, thank him.

A boy without a father tends to remember those men who positively influenced them.  Because those types of men are rare to those types of boys like us.

I wrote him a quick note.  I thanked him.  Then, I decided to share my favorite memory of him.   It went like this:

One evening after Wednesday night service, you and my mom were talking outside. I wanted to go home. I was hungry and simply tired. I was nagging my mom, pulling at her pants leg and trying to rush her so she'd stop talking to you.
With the kindness and patience of a great man, you leaned into me; handed me $5 and said, "on your way home, stop at Mcdonalds". Then you, gave the kindest smile I have ever been the recipient of.

Not a great story.  It's rather ordinary to anyone else who isn't me.  But it's funny.  I was 10 years old and this is what I remember about him.

I think about such people often.  Those who are responsible for my redeeming qualities.

I have no idea what my calling in life is; who I am supposed to be; what I am supposed to do and what stories others will tell of me when that day comes I stumble back into their lives or thoughts after a long absence.

But I hope, they can't recall any goodbyes or a proverbial wave.

I hope their rear view mirror is as blurry as mine.