Pity my nice, friendly niece; she was lugging around my heavy suitcase because I had thoughtlessly chosen an old one that we hadn't used for years...and it didn't have wheels! The bus departing from Edmonton should be leaving any minute, so I didn't want to sit too far away from gate # 3. Not that there was many empty seats, anywhere!"Is this seat available?" I asked. The occupants in the ajoining chairs both nodded. I waited. I did not feel inclined to removed Someone Else's Garbage. Eventually it was plucked up and disposed of, so I slipped into the middle seat.
Poor Cheryl just waited. On her feet.
Soon I was chatting with the man on my left. Or rather he was chatting with me. I don't know how it tumbled out, but soon he was telling me his life story, or so it seemed. And that included having his mother beaten to death when he was only thirteen years old. I couldn't begin to fathom the agony he must have endured in the coming years. Something told me he must have had a very rough existance, at best, if it something like that lurked in his memory. I tried to point him to Christ. His life is so messed up, and he had killed the brutal murderer.
Lord, may your Light shine on him, cleanse him, and heal his wounded, broken spirit.
Think about Hubby. When I tell him I chatted with a murderer, I hope he won't get too stressed out.
My favorite farewell to a stranger I have chatted with for a few minutes: Hope to meet you again, in Heaven."
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