Out of the blue, the man on the park bench beside me asked, “Would you rather be Samson or Job?”
I looked over and not knowing how to answer I asked, “Is Boaz an option?”
He snorted and muttered something under his breath about sheaves of barley and threshing room floors.
“This is my Delilah,” he said and showed me the bottle in the paper bag. “She used to keep me warm at night but then she betrayed me, now I’m bald and weak. That’s when I knew I was Samson, when I became weak. Didn’t know how strong I was until I wasn’t.”
“So you chose Samson?” I asked.
“For sure. Only an idiot would want to be Job. I’d rather just lose my strength instead of everything. I’m just waiting for them to chain me to a couple of pillars so I can take the whole house down and go out in style.”
“But Job got it all back in the end didn’t he?” I asked.
He looked away. I wasn’t sure if he was listening anymore but then he turned back and asked, “Who is your Ruth?”
“My Ruth?” I asked a little confused.
“Yeah, if you’re Boaz, who is your Ruth?”
I thought of my life, my wife and my son, and all the many blessings that had been poured down on me and I smiled.
As he got up and began to stagger away he turned and said, “We all have our roles to play. In the end I’ll do something marvelous and amazing that no one is expecting. I’ll do my bit if you do yours.”
“What’s my bit?” I asked, bewildered.
“You don’t know?” He paused, thinking, then just laughed and continued walking away.
I watched him meandering off down the sidewalk, but in the last moment he turned and yelled, “Hey Boaz”.
“What?” I asked.
“Your job is simple,” he said with a smile, “just take care of Obed.” Then he turned the corner and walked out of sight.
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A Song for the Son
SpiritualThis is my collection of short stories, poems, and reflections on life, all of them being a response to scripture and my Christian beliefs as I walk through this world. I post a new piece every few days. Be sure to check back often. Table of Conten...
