WHEN I’M NOT IN CLASS, I work at the visitor center desk on our college campus. I make sure the phones are answered, the visitor center stays clean, and people are welcomed when they come to campus.
Last year I noticed an older gentleman visiting our campus every day—actually every meal—all semester long. I remember actually feeling scared the first time I saw him because he literally waited hours in the lobby for food and would ask every half hour or so how long it would be until the cafeteria opened for dinner.
He can’t hear well and his mind is failing him, so I have to raise my voice so he can hear and understand me. My coworkers and I looked him up a few weeks ago. We found out that he is an alumnus of Union College and that he did great things for God and the Adventist Church as a missionary pilot in Peru. He lost his wife recently and lives a few blocks away, walking every day to our campus.
I’ll admit, it’s hard to have patience sometimes. And sometimes he will say something to someone passing by and I struggle to stifle a laugh.
Until the other day.
MIND MATTERS
I was the only one at the desk. My boss was in her office nearby. The man was sitting in the lobby again, this time reading over a small index card. I think it had a Bible promise on it.
He broke down in tears, speaking over and over again of heaven and the joy that awaits us there. Of how he would be able to hear and his mind would work again. He repeated himself so often it could have become annoying, but it wasn’t.
I turned 20 recently. I randomly joked on one of my social media platforms that I have two decades down, and we’ll see how many more I get. But the truth is, with an average lifespan, I’ve already, even as young as I am, lived one-fourth of my life. Sixty or so years from now, I’ll be his age.
My mind probably won’t work so well, and my hearing will be blasted from decades of too much bass music in the car. But in my not-so-present-mindedness, what will be on my mind?
Will it be the things of this world? The pleasures, the troubles, the worries? Or will it be on Jesus?
Thank you, man in the lobby. See you next time I work at the desk, and then someday—as you love to say every day—“See you in heaven.”
