it matters

I had thirty minutes to kill.

I saw a comfy couch across the room and thought to myself. "That looks like a good place to turn my mind off and do nothing for the next thirty minutes."

In order to get to the couch, I had to brush past an elderly man sitting nearby. I smiled at him, briefly and absentmindedly took note of his wranglers and cowboy boots, and said "Hi, how are you?" "I'm fine, thank you," he said. And that was the end of my "do nothing" time.

He turned his knees to face me and looked me square in the eye. He asked my name in exchange for his, and I took the deal. We made small talk, about the weather and Texas and what we had had for lunch. After a few minutes he picked up his hat and moved into the seat next to me.. he was at least 80 years old and a tinch hard of hearing. He asked me about myself, who I was, where I'm going, etc etc. I told him I've just moved here and a little bit about why and what I'm doing with my life. He told me he was waiting for his wife, they drove an hour for this appointment and she should be done soon. He scanned the room for her and his eyes lit up when he told me her name. It was then that I noticed the wedding band.. gold with diamond studs in the shape of a horse shoe. [It turns out he was a professional rodeo cowboy much earlier in his life].

In mid conversation, he stopped and smiled at me. "You're a real nice lady, ma'am." I smiled back and asked questions, I could tell he was having fun telling me stories. After hearing about Indian friends in Montana and roping cattle in California, I asked about is wife. I expected to hear a 60 year long love story that its hard to believe even exists anymore.

"How long have you been married to your wife?" I asked. "Five years," he stated as a huge grin broke across his face showing every tooth in his mouth. "It's the craziest story, you see," he began. I leaned in closer and listened to every word he said.

"My first wife passed away about 12 years ago. Her first husband passed about the same time. I had lived by myself for 7 years when I was having a beer at a bar and ran into a young gal that used to run around with my daughters when they were younger. She said to me 'I have an idea for you' and she told me about this lady. I gave her my number and told her to have the lady call me. Well, a few days went by and I didn't hear from anybody. So I called this gal up and I said 'I haven't heard from her yet!' and that gal said she talked to the lady and that lady said if I wanted to talk to her, I'd have to call her, she wasn't callin me!" He chuckled to himself and shook his head, his eyes looking right through me and back to years past. "That's when I knew, I liked her. Before I even met her. So I called her and I asked her if she wanted to go on a date. We met at a little coffee shop and I told her 'Ma'am, I don't know exactly what to do. I haven't been out with a nice lady in several years.' She suggested we get dinner and go back to her place and watch TV, so we did. We haven't spent very much time at all apart since then."

I told him that was a beautiful story, and thanked him so much for sharing it with me. He commented on how hard it was for him to learn to live with someone else again, and how they both had to learn sacrifice all over again when they got married to each other. "She hates the rodeo life.. she was a school teacher. But she still helps me turn the horses out every night because I can't do it very well myself anymore. And I hate to clean the house, but I pick up my boots and put them where they go now, and I even help her fold the towels sometimes even though I don't ever do it like she likes it."

I smiled to myself picturing this 80+ year old couple learning each other new after living so long without each other. I'm sure the days were entertaining to say the least. I told him about Sam and a little bit of our background, and he listened and smiled and nodded. He said "I sure do wish you guys luck ma'am, I hope it all works out for you. Life is better when you have somebody to do it with." I thanked him kindly.

We were both quiet for a moment, and his eyes caught fire again. "I've been married for 5 years," he said, "it's the craziest story of how I met my wife. I was having a beer in a bar when I ran into this old gal my daughters used to run around with. She said 'I have a lady for you' and I gave her my number..."

He proceeded to tell me the entire story again, every detail just as intentional and cherished as the first time around. When I realized what was going on, the thoughts in my head ran together. "Is he really telling me this whole story again? He has no idea he just told me all of this. Oh my gosh he drove here. And he is driving home when his wife is done. I really don't want to listen to this whole thing again. Maybe I'll cut him off next time he takes a breath and tell him I'm late and have to go."

And then I locked my eyes on his, and I could see the joy all the way to his soul, the joy that comes from feeling useful and valued and like you have a purpose. He was sharing his life with me. And I suddenly felt privileged to be the one hearing the story twice. I felt honored to be the one chosen to give him purpose for those 30 minutes. I listened intently, and I responded just as I had the first time. And when I thanked him for telling me his story, I meant it.

Soon after the story was over for the second time, it was time for me to go. I shook his hand and told him thanks for talking with me and wished him safe travels back home. He shook my hand and stood to bid me farewell. "I sure wish my wife had been finished sooner so she could have met you. You're a real nice lady, ma'am." I smiled and waved as I walked away.

All he wanted was someone to value him and his life and his story.

Isn't that all anyone really wants? To matter?

Listen. Really listen.

It matters to people.