Being a vegetarian will periodically add a level of complication to eating. Listening to my friends say, "Can you eat there?" It's exhausting. It is also endearing. At least they care enough to ask. Many times the result is the same as it is today. Sitting in the back of a fish market pouring over the menu in search of a non-meat substance. But I don't want to be that guy. The guy who determines the eating habits of everyone around him in order to suit his own. Seems easier to go hungry.
Earlier this morning I was reminded again of how out of place I feel. Just like I feel now. Like a fish out of water seems too easy a metaphor to use. Like when I watch football or the Country Music Awards. I can't help but wonder how I got here in the first place. I should have just made up a lame excuse and went home instead. But right now, watching people pour into this seafood mecca, I don't want to be anywhere else.
That uncomfortable feeling is subsided by the laughter of my children as they play. They are so at ease with our two friends that they could be their own family. If I let my mind drift, my children would cease to be mine and Alyson's. I would again be yearning for the joy that our two friends have one day to experience. For now we simply enjoy the peace that comes along with two extra sets of eyes. Stopping the one-year-old from smearing ketchup on everything.
The menu comes to my rescue with a sole vegetarian option. We order. We eat. We talk. It seems so simple. Maybe it seems insignificant but I can feel God at work in every word we share. Our words matter and they change us with each syllable. They cut deep to a place that others will never see or understand. Our sentences change our thoughts. These change moments which will eventually go on to change lives. Lives that will start movement and revolution. Movement that will change a city, a country or even a planet. Times and futures.
I lose myself in the conversation. We talk about Jesus like He is an old friend. That morning at church we told each other stories of how the Holy Spirit has been made present in our lives. Now I can see a new story unfolding itself to be told as I again sense something outside of our small back booth. God is telling us that we have a part to play in all of this. We have a role in this grand story but it will require us to do things we may not want to do. Like Jonah, throwing himself into the sea only to be spared by a fish.
We step out in the warm air that passes for a Florida autumn. It is unmistakably too hot for November. Once again I feel uncomfortable. Like things shouldn't be this way. Again still, I am comforted knowing that I am right where I need to be. We follow the boats to the back of the building and walk along the wooden docks. I can't help but take a photograph. It's too perfect. My friends look so in love even with their features melted into a silhouette against the sun's light.
And to think, all of this could have easily been avoided.
