Tears are a language!

We were in California recently for a church conference. One of the activities that was planned for the ladies was a day of shopping. I am not your typical shopper, I go to the store, get what I want and go home! I happen to be shopping with several ladies that were the epitome of the shopping experience.

There were four of us in our vehicle. Beth, Bonnie, Clarice, and I. It really worked out well. Clarice and I watched as Beth and Bonnie put the phrase, "shop till you drop" into practice!!  At the fourth store I opted to sit in the car. It was a small thrift store and I wasn't finding any bargains that were small enough to fit in a suitcase anyway.

Beth had opened the car windows so it was real pleasant sitting there watching the crazy California traffic. After a few minutes Clarice came out of the store and tried to get in the car. We tried everything to unlock the doors. There was no way we could get them open. I don't think I ever felt so helpless, I had never been locked in before and the feelings that started to well up inside could have lead to a full blown panic attack. I suggested to Clarice that she crawl through the window but she wasn't that desperate to get in even if I did need the extra company.

As we stood/sat there talking and laughing through the opened window trying to devise a way for her to get in the car, a man came walking up the street. He was carrying a battered suitcase. He had long straggly gray hair, very unkempt looking. On closer inspection his clothes were clean, and there were no visible holes. At some point in time someone had written on his T-shirt with a marking pen but it was pretty faded. All we could read was, "Jesus forgive me for..." As he got closer to us he started to call out to us, "Help me.." at least that is what we thought he said. We couldn't understand everything he was saying but we did catch the word "hungry". 

Clarice and I looked at each other and said, "What do we do?" I looked around to see if there was any type of fast food places but there weren't any restaurants at all. We talked about the possibility of taking him for food then we remembered I was locked in and had no keys! Clarice said she sure wasn't taking him by herself! As we continued to debate what to do, he continued to mumble, "I'm hungry!" We finally decided to give him some money, still not sure it was the right thing to do. I looked up at him and saw him wiping tears. I don't know the difference between alligator tears or the real thing, but they looked real to my melting heart. Tears are a language, even if the person shedding them is an expert at producing them. "Tears are words the mouth can't say nor can the heart bare."
We handed him the money as he wiped his tears. He held out his fist , he was trying to say "Thank you"As he continued to mumble, we picked out the words motel and shower.  We said, "No, that's  all we can give you!" He turned and walked away.

Now several months later, I still wonder about him. I still think about his tears. We had one opportunity to touch his life. He touched mine with tears. Tears are a language that God understands!