Last week, Avery and I had such a weird day--a glitch in the matrix, an experience that left us questioning reality.
At my FNP's office that morning, I managed to run into a woman who, a little over a decade previously, had been part of a group who made my life in our old neighborhood a living hell. I knew her loud mouth before I even saw her. I immediately recognized her face, and her insecurity. Without acknowledging each other, I saw in her eyes that she recognized me as well.
Fewer than twenty minutes later, her daughter (who didn't recognize me, and I didn't say anything) was our cashier at a store on our errand route.
Shaking our heads, Avery and I headed to the grocery store.
Making our way through the aisles, me acting like a fool like I love to do, and Avery pretending to be embarrassed (no, I swear, he only pretends!).
Coming towards us in an aisle as I barked out orders to Avery, was this delightfully cheery little gentleman, shorter than myself. He had a smile from ear to ear, greeted us with a wave, telling us that he hoped we were having a blessed day.
I'm not usually one to stop and have a conversation with a complete stranger in the middle of the grocery store, but there was just--there was just something about this gentleman. I felt compelled to stop. Talking about it later, Avery described feeling pulled. Avery also said he felt as though this man was on a mission, specifically for us, and only us. Despite there being other folks in the aisle, we were the only two people he saw.
As we exchanged pleasantries, this gentleman began talking about the past--how it can poison the present and the future, how it should stay exactly where it belongs, in the past.
Then he turned his attention to Avery. He told Avery that he could tell he's loved very much, and how much I delight in him--he used my exact words, "You mom delights in you, I can see that in her eyes." He said that children are their mother's legacies, their life's work, and to always remember that.
And with that, he folded his hands in front of himself, telling us he'd taken up enough of our day. Avery and I were still too stunned, but managed to stutter something about enjoying talking with him, and we thanked him for his time.
This entire exchange took fewer than five minutes, but it's left such an imprint on both of us, it could have taken over an hour.
And then--folks, I know you'll be skeptical, and I don't blame you, because like I said, Avery and I are still trying to wrap our heads around it--he just disappeared.
As he walked up the aisle away from us, I realized there was something I'd forgotten a few aisles back. I sent Avery on the wild goose chase for it, not even a minute--thirty seconds--in the same direction our new friend had gone.
When he came back, he said the gentleman had just disappeared. His cart was gone, he was gone. There was no sign of him at all.
He was just gone.
Not in a *POOF* kind of way. He didn't click his heels or clap his hands and disappear in a puff of smoke. He just walked away.
Not in the way one would walk away from another person and disappear around the corner. Not in the way one walks away and out of sight.
He was just gone.
So, where did he go? Who was he? Was he even there for groceries--what, who was he there for?
Avery and I have our theory. We have our story, which we've held close and shared with very few until now. It was such an experience though, the day was so weird leading up to it, it's a story worth sharing. I know some won't believe us, and I know others will have their own opinions. And that's okay--that means this isn't for them.
But, this happened to us. It happened with us. And that day, we entertained an angel.
