This is an experience of seeing past the “label,” of seeing the soul beneath the years. It’s about someone who achieved tolerance long enough to practice tenderness. Enjoy.
I had one of those experiences last night that’s going to stick with me for a long time.
Sunday night. 7:30pm. And I was going to a church I had never been to.
I moseyed in the back and found a seat in the second-to-last row, just off the aisle.
Mass started. We were about 15 minutes in, and the priest was giving the homily.
And this old man hobbled in. He was at least 90, hunched over his cane, shuffling along. And he plopped down right next to me.
Now, how can I put this delicately…his entrance was not…shall we say…discrete.
As an elderly gentleman, his hearing was obviously going, because what he thought were whispers, actually were yells.
Is someone sitting here!? What day is it!? September 4? What’s the page number?
Now, if you’ve never been to Catholic mass, disruptions are…rare and…unwelcome.
People were looking back…
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