One Person In Line

He was talking as he stood in line.  He pushed his tray along the ledge with hands that were coated in dirt and trembled ... the right worse than the left.  He was given his sandwich, some vegetables, two cookies.  When he reached for his soup, his trembling right hand made it hard for him to steady the bowl and some of his savory grace spilt onto the tray.  The person serving his needs saw the bowl had tipped and graciously topped his soup off so he would get his fair share.  He shuffled to a table, sat down, lowered his head, spoke some more.  He rarely joined in conversation with the others seated near him, except to make comments that really had nothing to do with any person or conversation near him.  Several times he talked animatedly, laughing, frustration, but these words to no one other than to himself.  At one point he did ask one of the servers if he could get a new belt.  He showed her that his had broken in half and was duct taped together.  It also would have fit a man at least three times his size.  He was asked to follow her to another area, where together they dug through a box.  He seemed happy that he had several belts from which he could choose.  He put the "new" one on, tipped his head, muttered some more words, and took his leave.

He proceeded around the corner and up the stairs to the magnificent Cathedral.  He continued to talk as he entered the church and took his place on the right hand side, about four rows  from the back of the church.  He lowered his head and remained quiet.  No longer talking to the unknown.  He remained seated during the first part of the Mass, making no noise, looking at no one, but occasionally lifting his head to look at the stars on the ceiling of the Cathedral.    He reached into the pocket of the coat that was literally hanging off of his frail body and pulled out a plastic container that resembled a toothbrush holder.  The filth of the holder was overwhelming. Surely this couldn't really be his toothbrush.  What was revealed within seconds took my breath away.  He opened one end and poured something into the palm of his hand.  It was coins.  Several coins.  Some were pennies, a few nickles, and maybe a couple of quarters.  He pushed them around in his palm, took two or three of them into his other hand, and put the rest away and placed the holder back in his pocket.  When the collection basket came down his row of chairs, he took his meager coins and dropped them into the basket.   His gift.  He remained seated, talking with no one throughout the rest of the Mass.  He did join in the Body of Christ during Communion.  When Mass was over, he tipped his head and walked out the main entrance of the Cathedral.  As he slowly shuffled down the sidewalk, he once again began carrying on his conversation. 

I found myself praying that the voices he heard and the conversations taking place were with his friends.  I couldn't bare the thought of him being alone in the coldness of the coming night.