We sat down for dinner on the train. It was getting dark, and windows showed shadows of buildings and landscapes as we passed through small towns. We were in the dining car, and there were tables covered with white linen tablecloths in a row, down the length of the car. Each table could seat four people. Since there were only three of us, we would be seated with someone we didn't know. The train had to make use of all the space it could.
We were seated with a single elderly gentleman. He brought a book with him to read while he ate. He wasn't intending to have much of a conversation, which suited my inner introvert just fine. For the first fifteen minutes or so, he read while the kids and I chatted about everything and nothing in particular.
After a while, he started to warm up to us. Maybe it was our chatty nature, or perhaps he simply wanted a break from his book. When the food was served, he had to put down the book anyway. So, he began to talk with us a little. He was from Indiana and he lived on a farm. He didn't give many details of his trip, and I didn't ask. But, he'd ridden trains before.
When he talked about his past trips, he always referred to "we". We went to California. We enjoyed the steak restaurant. But, on this trip, it was "I". I wondered if "we" referred to his wife and I also wondered if she had perhaps passed away.
I looked at his left hand, but there was no wedding ring. It didn't mean anything, but I couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps she died before they could go on this trip together. My heart went out to him.
I stole a glance at the book he was reading. It was called The Art of Racing In The Rain. It was a good book and we'd watched the movie as well. He asked us if we were familiar with it, because he couldn't put it down. We told him yes, and we wouldn't spoil the ending for him, but it was quite a story.
This ended up becoming a conversation gold mine as the topic shifted to dogs. He told us all about his Golden Retriever, her loyalty and her charming personality. He really missed her. We love dogs, so the three of us enjoyed asking questions about the dog and sharing pictures of our Husky.
He mentioned some friends were watching his dog while he took this trip. It confirmed my suspicion that no one else was at home. I wondered how his wife died. I thought about him returning home, alone, to his dog.
After we finished eating, we said our goodbyes and wished him well. The next day, we returned to the dining cart again for lunch. The same man was sitting there, waiting for us. He'd already eaten, but he wanted to see us again so he could show us pictures of his dog. He pulled out his smartphone and we genuinely enjoyed looking at about a dozen pictures of a beautiful golden retriever.
In one of the photos, the dog was curled up around the neck of an older woman. She had a friendly face and I smiled at her hair. It was dyed bright red but the color faded, resulting in a significant purple hue.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"Oh that's my girlfriend." he answered.
I was so surprised. How dare he have a girlfriend when his wife just died? Perhaps he'd just begun dating and his wife passed a long time ago. Maybe he'd lived his entire life single. But, if that was the case, who was "we"? And why wasn't the girlfriend watching the dog? There was a lot going on with this situation, but you know, I'm not one to pry.
Again, we said our goodbyes and he went on his way.
The next day, we returned to the dining car for dinner. We had a later dinner time, so by the time we'd arrived, there were no single riders to be paired with us for dinner. I noticed the elderly man had been seated with another group. The three of us chatted throughout dinner and as soon as the other group exited, he walked over to our table and sat down in the empty seat.
"I finished the book," he said.
"Are you all right?" I asked. "We didn't want to spoil it for you, but its a very emotional ending."
"You're not kidding." he said. "I think I need therapy."
I told him the story of when I was reading Where The Red Fern Grows. Alex, my son, had a follow-up appointment at the cancer hospital. At this point in his journey, his health was fine and we were there simply for a check-up. But, at the time I was reading Where The Red Fern Grows in the waiting room. If you've ever read the book, you know it is probably the saddest dog story ever written. I was sobbing uncontrollably as I made my way to the end of the book.
Just around that time, the hospital was giving a tour to help with fundraising efforts. All of these nice people were making their way through the lobby while the guide explained the different amenities for children in the waiting room. Meanwhile, I sobbed in the corner uncontrollably. I'm sure everyone thought my son was dying. But, no, I was just reading Where The Red Fern Grows.
The old man laughed at my story. "I bet they raised a lot of money that day," he said.
"Well, they should have. I was very distraught."
"I've never read that book," he said.
"I'm not sure I'd recommend it right now," I said. "You need recovery time first."
He agreed, then got quiet. "I miss the smell of my dog," he said.
"That's a real thing," I told him. I remembered my days of severe anxiety and my weekly therapy sessions. The therapist asked me to think of calming things during one of my sessions. I told her playing with my dog, petting my dog, and even the smell of my dog. So, I knew what he meant when he said he missed her smell.
"Yes, it is a real thing," he replied. Interesting to me that he never once mentioned missing his girlfriend, but you know, that was none of my business.
Our train was nearing the end of its journey, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card.
"If you'd like to keep in touch and share dog pictures," he said.
I looked at the card. It had his name, followed by a comma, then the word Friend. It had his e-mail address and phone number, and the rest of the card was blank. I was struck that someone would carry around business cards as a means of making friends. We said our goodbyes one final time.
If there's one thing I've learned during my walk with Jesus, it is that nothing in life is a random encounter. I certainly don't know why the connection was made with this old man, but I know there was a reason. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
"That man was my favorite person we've met so far on this trip," my son said as we navigated the train station.
"Mine too," my daughter agreed.
I thought about what I would put on a card if I carried one around. What if there were only one word to describe me? Would it be Friend? Accountant? Chocolate Lover? (technically that's two words) Introvert? Here's my card. I want to be your friend but I don't know how to articulate it because I'm an introvert.
What would Jesus put on his card? Savior. Friend. Redeemer. How do you describe Him without writing paragraphs? I don't think you can. The prophet Isaiah also struggled to describe the Messiah in one word.
Isaiah 9:6: For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace
Can you imagine if the Messiah sat down at a table with you, just like the elderly gentleman did on our train? If you looked into his eyes, would you know He created you? Would you immediately recognize Him? Would your heart skip a beat, sensing you were sitting across from perfection in the flesh?
It happened to the woman at the well. She knew he was the Messiah. Not immediately, though. She was going about her everyday duties, drawing water at the well. It was hot, and she wanted to finish her chores. Then, out of nowhere, she had a random encounter with a stranger that would change her forever.
She met her Creator.
At first, she thought He was a prophet. But when He told her He was the Messiah, she knew it was true. He could tell her every detail about her life, even the details she wasn't so proud of. She was so stunned by Him, and so excited that she ran away to tell everyone else. She even left her water jar at the well.
John 4:39 Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.” 40 So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. 41 And because of his words many more became believers.
I think about this scenario sometimes. What would I do if I ran into Jesus? I think I would cry for a long time. I would cling to Him, begging Him to take me with Him wherever He was going. If he were coming to my house, I'd likely go into full Martha mode, cleaning every surface in sight. I relate to Martha, by the way, because I fully understand her plight.
But, what I would do in this scenario really doesn't matter. The question is what would He do? If we ran into Jesus, what would He tell us?
I'm sure many things He would say would be unique to us as individuals. But, I do know this much based on the Bible. He would tell us we are His daughters. He would say He loves us. He would say He was proud of us and our faith, no matter what kind of shambles our life might be in. He would tell us we are beautiful. He would say He wants a relationship with us. He sees our struggles and He would remind us we are never alone. He would say He can't wait to show us our permanent home, dwelling with Him forever.
Our worlds would be rocked forever, because we've never come into contact with a love like His. Love that changes a person. Love that makes you run from a water well, leaving your jar behind, just to tell everyone else. There would be no need for a business card, because an encounter like that could never be described in one word.
The woman at the well said it perfectly, in fact. "He told me everything I ever did." What more would there be to say? He knocked her socks off, so much so that she didn't even try to describe Him. She simply said He knew it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And He loved me anyway.
How can one not be forever changed by such an event?
I returned home from our train trip, and I set the Friend card on my dresser. I thought about the man, the dog, and the girlfriend with the purple hair. It was a random encounter that left an impression on all of us. Perhaps I'll send him a few dog pictures every so often. Maybe I'll send him a copy of Where The Red Fern Grows. Who knows, maybe someday we will see him again on another train trip.
But, I know this much.
Random encounters are rarely random.
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