Next door there lived a man. He was a middle-aged man and had seen his fair share of life. He had flowing white hair that never seemed to be out of place. His skin was leathery and tan. Partially from the sun and I think partially that skin had been through a lot. He had a scar across his heart. Not a surgery scar. It must have been from a war or an unfortunate accident. His blue eyes had a hint of grey. It was impossible to look into them and not gain wisdom. They penetrated deep and made those on the other end of them feel completely exposed. Every night he would sit on his porch in his favorite rocking chair with a dormant chair to his left. No one ever sat in it but it was worn. It was apparent that, that chair had an owner. The man would sit there every night and rock, back and forth, back and forth, as he carved little toys out of wood with a pocket knife that moved as if it were just another appendage. Some days as he carved the little toys he would speak. I can only assume it was to the dormant chair next to him. He called the chair ‘Helen’. Helen always knew how to make the man smile. A few times I saw the man stop carving. He pressed his hand that held the knife to his scar. A tear slowly fell down his cheek. His penetrating blue eyes turned all the way grey as the tears welted up inside them. Not a muscle on his face moved as he cried. I could not believe how someone could scream so loud without saying any words or moving any muscles. He just starred at Helen and cried, and she cried with him.
Every Sunday the man would walk to church. Thick leather Bible, like his skin, tucked underneath his arm, and an old note. The note had been folded on its crease countless times. It was no longer white but a faded brown. On the front was a broken red seal with a cursive ‘H’ that had been pressed into the wax many years ago. The man hummed “Amazing Grace” as he walked down the sidewalk to church. As he walked along he swung his free hand as it dangled at his side, slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. He repeated the process on his way home from church except he hummed “It is Well” as he walked back. Same pace, same fashion. Back and forth, back and forth.
One day, it was a Tuesday; I decided to get a little closer to the man. As he rocked on the porch carving his toy I crawled along the side of our two houses. I just wanted to see him more closely; I just wanted to…….I don’t know what I wanted. I slowly crawled to the side of his porch. My heart beat steadily rising. I was afraid the sound of my heart would betray me. I tried to calm it by holding my breath, but it didn’t work. The seconds ticked by so slowly as the lack of oxygen finally made me gasp out for air. I quickly threw my hand over my mouth; I knew he had to have heard that. But he still sat rocking back and forth, back and forth. Scared of getting caught I decided I had gotten close enough. I slowly started to crawl backward when a booming calm voice from above me said, “Did you find what you were looking for?” I froze. I felt my heart beat in my throat and I couldn’t move. The man did not even turn around to look at me as he motioned for me to come over. I debated running, I decided to run, but my legs wouldn’t do it. Instead I slowly walked forward. I made it up the steps and stopped lifeless as I stood in front of him. He repeated his question, “Did you find what you were looking for?” I shrugged my shoulders; it was all I could say. “No one goes crawling around like that unless they are looking for something,” he said. He looked up at me for the first time, still carving by feel. I caught his eyes for what must have been an entire half a second and then my eyes retreated quickly to the legs of his rocking chair. He looked back down to his hands as he continually rocked back and forth, back and forth. “Son”, He said slowly, “What are you looking for?” He waited patiently as I dug as deep as I could to try to find something profound. Minutes went by. Back and forth. Still no sound came from my lips. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. Still back and forth. Suddenly I blurted out in a crackled voice, “I want to know everything!” “I want to know why you sit here every day. Why you talk to a chair? Why you carve children’s toys? Why you sing the same two songs on your way to and from church? Why do you cry?” The man slowly stopped rocking back and forth and his hands dropped softly in his lap. He rose out of his chair and made up the space between us in one step. He took my shaking hand at my side and placed the wooden toy he carved in my palm and then sat back down. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “Because I have had a lot, and I have lost a lot. I have seen many come, and more go. I have loved dearly, but have cried more. And I am the happiest man to have ever lived.” He started rocking again, back and forth, back and forth. I turned the wooden figure in my hand as my mind raced to try and figure out what this meant. My finger touched the bottom of the toy where I felt an engraved inscription. It read “Hebrews 11:1 Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” As I read the verse a calm unexplainable in words fell over me. I looked underneath the toys that surrounded the railing of the deck. They all read the same thing. The man looked at me and smiled as he rocked back and forth. He had answered my question. The man engraved this verse everyday on his toys and on his heart. He meditated on it continually, back and forth, back and forth. He was the wealthiest, happiest man on Earth. Because his heart was where he could not see. Where he was certain he would eventually be.
