THE LUNAR REPORT - SPECIAL EDITION - "THAT KIND OF MAN"
I only met the man once or twice. But I knew him. He was that kind of man. I cannot even recall his first name right now. He wouldn’t mind. He was that kind of man.
He is the Dad of my favorite family. I know his son. I know his son’s wife. She’s my niece. His grandchildren share some of my blood. I know the man.
A few years ago, my Mom was in intensive care at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Jacksonville, Florida. For a couple of months. Many times, we were told to pray. We were told that was all we could do. At those most desperate of times, that man showed up. He held our hands. He held my unconscious Mom’s hand. And he prayed with us. And for us. Those other desperate times when he was not with us, his son, Eric, came and held and prayed.
A few years after that, I had an engagement in Jacksonville. A reunion with some really wonderful old friends and former co-workers. I took my 18 year old youngin’ with me. From our homes in North Carolina. He wanted to see his Grandmother, Aunt and Uncle. The night of my reunion, my sister took my son with her to the birthday party of my young great-nephew. There were so many people there. All pretty much strangers to my son. Mr. Poovey and his youngin’ Eric befriended my son. I heard all about those two gentlemen. From my child. On the way home. And for years after that.
This may interest none of you. You never even knew the man existed. But he did. And he existed in such a beautiful manner.
My Mom still lives. And my son to this day pays attention to others who seem to need a “Poovey-Touch.” Mr. Poovey passed away yesterday.
When I have the choice of holding a hand and praying or walking away. Or the choice of befriending a young adult or turning to chat with my own friends... well. I think I will follow Mr. Poovey’s lead. Or at least I will try. I think I know the man. I kind of think he is the kind of man who will live forever really.
He is the Dad of my favorite family. I know his son. I know his son’s wife. She’s my niece. His grandchildren share some of my blood. I know the man.
A few years ago, my Mom was in intensive care at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Jacksonville, Florida. For a couple of months. Many times, we were told to pray. We were told that was all we could do. At those most desperate of times, that man showed up. He held our hands. He held my unconscious Mom’s hand. And he prayed with us. And for us. Those other desperate times when he was not with us, his son, Eric, came and held and prayed.
A few years after that, I had an engagement in Jacksonville. A reunion with some really wonderful old friends and former co-workers. I took my 18 year old youngin’ with me. From our homes in North Carolina. He wanted to see his Grandmother, Aunt and Uncle. The night of my reunion, my sister took my son with her to the birthday party of my young great-nephew. There were so many people there. All pretty much strangers to my son. Mr. Poovey and his youngin’ Eric befriended my son. I heard all about those two gentlemen. From my child. On the way home. And for years after that.
This may interest none of you. You never even knew the man existed. But he did. And he existed in such a beautiful manner.
My Mom still lives. And my son to this day pays attention to others who seem to need a “Poovey-Touch.” Mr. Poovey passed away yesterday.
When I have the choice of holding a hand and praying or walking away. Or the choice of befriending a young adult or turning to chat with my own friends... well. I think I will follow Mr. Poovey’s lead. Or at least I will try. I think I know the man. I kind of think he is the kind of man who will live forever really.
Please visit the sites of some of my friends.
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