Last night, I went to the fair on our small town square. It was after work. I showered and went, relieving my mom who came down from the city to help with the boys while Audrey and Bridgette are at volleyball and I am in the fields.
It was more special than I expected. I saw my oldest son with his friends, being the teenagers that they are. I saw my youngest son with his, being they younger—but growing—boys they are as well. I tried to surprise him as he loaded onto a Ferris wheel, to make a funny face as they whirled around. He didn’t see me the first time, resigned my hope for grin and a smile and left him to his time and friends—but he saw me the next.
To hear him call and see his smile—made my night.
I kept close, but at a distance (as I think God often does with us, with whom he loves, and also wishes us free will and the blessing to live our lives and moments in the freedom of our wills; all the while, ensuring we are safe and loved). Another ride, I saw his smile (like our own prayers) communing without question, he was glad that I was there.
I don’t go out much. Outside of work, I see few people, but on the square—many gathered for the rides, friends, and special time—I saw many who I’ve encounter in the living of my smalltown life.
I saw neighbors from a pasture where I run cattle. Grandparents, they care for two fun and 100% boys—they like to climb in and on and explore the truck, walk with me to the working corral and climb on the pipe alleys and spray water from the drinker hose. I hadn’t talked with them in a while, and it was special seeing them all, together, in their family mode.
I saw a young man I knew first as a boy, who grew up on our farm. His grandfather was very close to us, he too; and it’s always special to cross life-paths again and see who it is he’s growing into. I tapped his shoulder, and we talked and caught up. He rode the Ferris wheel, same time as my son, and I saw his smile too—a boy still, too, in heart though life made him grow faster than I ever did.
I saw a mother of a boy I used to coach football. Their family fosters newborns until a home for them is found, and she has another then, loving and treating as her own—resting and rocked in a stroller.
I saw another with whom so coached, running a food truck stand that was a long-time dream he acted on and made true.
Wednesday night on a small town square, nothing special to some, it was a kind of heaven to me: to see my mother, be near to my sons, and to greet again so many good and beautiful souls I’ve met on Way and pilgrimage through life.