Collision at Starbucks.

I was stopping by for a fix of coffee. My good friend Anne was there, and she dashed up a red-eye (coffee with espresso) for me. I'm always grateful for a second to hear what she's up to and how she's doing.

A moment of chatting and a fellow I knew through a small community at our church came up to me. I had heard earlier this week that he had an operation to remove a tumor on his brain. Well, the short story is, he doesn't have long to live. He's leaving Nashville, and probably won't be back. I didn't know Joe that well, but we're all living life, so news like that resonates to the core of everyone who hears it. Don't have long, so..... Not coming back and.... I know that sometimes I was....

Well, I take leave, and never feel like I've said the right thing, or anything. I mumble something to the effect that I'll be praying for Joe. Is God going to hear and does it matter?

I run into a friend who is remarrying in a few weeks. We chat about our fantasy football teams, and look around, observing that only musicians and people out of work (similar idea) are sitting in this coffee shop. My thoughts turn to Joe for a few seconds, and all of his journals piled up at his table there. I wonder, what is in those journals?

He's not working anymore, yet he has, in brief moment, had a job as teacher to me. He's no musician, yet I know that there are many songs in his story.