I sat with the greats this evening. People I’ve never met. From Gorbachev to a Mennonite Mother, while a waiter serenaded us as we waited for our fettuccine.
“I was fifteen feet from the general,” he said and my eyes were glued to his kind face. “He told me his mother was a Christian and though he didn’t believe, he’d seen what Christianity had done for America. Gorbachev wanted us to bring Bibles to The Soviet Union.”
The man with The Chair that heals leaned toward me and whispered, “Is this blowing your mind?”
I couldn’t speak. He had no idea how my mind was on fire. His face should have been staring at me in glossy cover from the back of a best seller. And yet, he was lost in the story too.
We laughed and leaned into our pasta, devouring the words of the teacher.
“I received a personal invitation, with nine others, because they named me publisher of the year.” His smile grew to a simper as he added, “But the award was a joke.”
I shoveled noodles into my mouth more out of exited energy than hunger. Stories are fuel for my mind and these five friends had kindling to last me a lifetime. I wanted to stay over that open grill of memories so the dinner would never end.
Friends make any setting magical.
The teacher placed hands that told of Unsolved Miracles, on either side of his plate and shared how he and his friends delivered Bibles to throngs at Mikhail Gorbachev’s request. He presented the gospel to Madame O’hare when the line for people to receive the Word of God blocked her way. She only spewed insults.
I could feel the spray of her anger and saw the gentle way he admonished her though I never left my seat.
To Be Continued…
Everyone has a story. Take the time to listen and you too will be dining with the greats.
When have you dined with the greats?