When I speak to a group, I try to connect with eyes.
No matter the size of the audience, I usually find a few sets of eyes that seem responsive and in tune with my message. When I need a little reassurance or a sense of how things are going, those friendly eyes become my touch points.
There’s something about eyes. Pain, joy, confusion, thoughtfulness, boredom—they seem to show through, somehow, when you look at eyes.
On the Florida tour we were invited to visit with a group of folks at a mental health clinic in Naples. This young man’s eyes locked in the moment we entered. One word seemed to scream from his intent gaze—PLEASE! I felt like he was begging for something, hoping this might be the day he’d find what he’d been so desperately seeking.
As I spoke I tried to look around the room and connect with clients and staff members, but I’ll confess it was difficult not to return to the intense link with one young man. In the course of a twenty-five minute conversation I saw tears, joy, hope, despair, gratitude, and probably a multitude of other emotions I don’t readily recall. I can’t imagine what must have been happening inside his mind.
Near the end I told them I would leave a few books, thanks to the generosity of our Book Benefactors. When Becky laid books on the table, he picked up a copy of RELENTLESS GRACE and looked at it as tears streamed down his face.
Then he stood and slowly walked from the room.
We finished our conversation, chatted for a few moments, and prepared to leave. As the room cleared I asked one of the staff about the fellow who walked away.
“It’s actually a good thing. He’s learning to cope with his emotions when he gets overwhelmed.”
I asked if I could say good-bye, and he said he’d check. He disappeared down a hallway, and a moment later the young man emerged.
“I just want to shake your hand and wish you well. And if it’s okay, I’d like to give you a copy of my book.”
He nodded, then reached out and took my hand. I signed a copy of RELENTLESS GRACE and handed it to him. He looked at the inscription—I don’t remember what I wrote, but with my crummy handwriting he probably couldn’t read it anyway.
Like so many interactions that are part of RICH’S RIDE, I wish I knew the rest of the story. I’d like to know he received proper diagnosis and great treatment. I want to know if he read the book and how it impacted his journey.
But that’s all just idle curiosity for my benefit. I did my part, what I could do, where I was with what I had. Thanks to your support in a whole variety of ways—as encouragers, sponsors, Book Benefactors, we’re able to scatter some seeds.
He also said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. Mark 4: 26-27
I’m trying to learn to trust the gardener.
Please leave a comment here.
