A Conversation with Peter
I dislike shopping.
I really do. Something inside me rises up and all of a sudden I feel jittery and want to run. Almost a panic attack. My breathing gets stuck and I’m looking for the door.
I will shop when necessary. I will go and buy clothes...but reluctantly. Even online I sweat it out and sometimes close an app quickly.
But to intentionally shop for fun. No way. Unless it’s Hobby Lobby or HomeGoods Store. But even then. When I’m ready to go, I’m moving fast whether there’s stuff in the basket or not. Doug has learned that when I get that look in my eye, it’s better to send me to the car and he will finish checking out. He knows me.
So that’s where this story begins. In a shopping mall. In fact, a very large mall in Frankenmuth Michigan. The last place I ever wanted to be.
We had just spent five wonderful days at a state retreat and were on our way home. Mel, a friend of ours, caught a ride with us as we headed south. Halfway was Frankenmuth and Mel needed to get out and walk. We hadn’t been here so she directed us to park near some stores she wanted to go take a look in.
Clothing stores.
With clothes. On racks that are close. With that new clothes smell.
Doug took one look at my face and steered me for a door. A walk around the outside shops would be better.
So we did. Enjoying the late summer weather and strolling slowly along. Soon though, I started to feel queasy. Nothing to do with shopping and everything to do with banquet after banquet of too much good food and not enough moving.
So we started looking for an empty bench. Soon we spied one with an older man sitting on one end. He was not a welcoming figure. His arms were crossed across his chest. His face was shrouded by a huge black beard that touched the top of his arms. A scowl was directed our way. Doug ignored the scowl and held my hand and directed me to the seat.
My husband looked at me and explained that he would make his way back to the car and bring it around. He kissed me and turned and walked away.
As I sat there on the bench, I used the opportunity to look around and pray. I stilled my breathing and relaxed. I saw buildings and pavement and cars and landscaping. So I asked God, “What do you want me to see?”
I could feel the presence of the man on the bench next to me. I looked around me and now I saw the people. Moving between buildings. Driving in cars or parking and moving away from them. People walking. People. And then I started praying.
I prayed for the people I could see and those connected to them. I prayed that a longing would fill their hearts to know The One who loves them unconditionally. That they would realize their need for Him. I prayed for their children. That mighty men and women would be raised up and be filled with joy of walking and knowing God. And I prayed for the man beside me. I prayed that if God would provide an opening, I would obediently step through.
And I sneezed.
I’m not talking about a sweet little “achoo”. I’m talking about a sneeze that rumbles up from the bottom of your feet and explodes out your nose. A BIG sneeze.
And beside me I heard, “Bless you!”
I smiled and thought, “Thank you Father. I’m stepping in now.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
He scowled at me. Still miffed, perhaps, that I dared sit on his bench. And then he asked me, “Who was the man you were with? You know, the guy who sat you on my bench?” (He was still annoyed.)
I turned and looked at him. “That’s my best friend and my husband. He’s a wonderful blessing in my life.” He turned towards me and with amazement exclaimed, “And you like him?”
“Yes. Yes, I really do!” He turned and faced the driveway again and muttered under his breath, “You are a strange woman.”
While scowling at the world, he asked, “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you shopping?” I grinned at him and said, “I really don’t like to shop.” He turned quickly towards me, eyes wide open in surprise. “What? You are a woman! You don’t like to shop? You really are a very strange woman.” He extended his large hand to me and introduced himself. “My name is Pyotr but you can call me Peter. Never Pete.”
He sat there looking at me. It was quiet on the bench between us but noise surrounded our little oasis of calm. Something changed in his eyes and he sighed.
“Tell me something,” he rumbled. “Are you one of those, you know, Born agains?”
“I am.”
He cocked his head to the left. “Can you tell me what that means. I’m really intrigued. You are different.”
I took a deep breath and started telling him my story. Of how angry I had always been. Of a life spent in conflict with those around me and the absolute emptiness of not having anything to hold onto. I then said, “In the Bible...”
“Stop!” He yelled. “Don’t bring up the Bible. I’ve never read it. I have no understanding of it. Why does it have to be a part of this. The faith I have is of my father, and his father before him, and his father before him. I am Orthodox and that’s what’s important. I know my history. “
I looked at him and explained. “That’s where we are different. My faith is in my Father. My Heavenly Father who loves me personally and very much individually and that faith is my own. God looked at my history and forgave me for all my mistakes and then gave me a future with him, both here on earth and in heaven.”
He scowled again, but not at me. He was thinking. “Okay,” he said. “You can talk about the Bible.”
“Let me tell you about one story that’s found in a book of the Bible called John. It’s about a man named Nicodemus who was very much like you. And he asked Jesus a question about being born again.”
As I talked, he would stop me and ask questions. His face relaxed and peace replaced the frustration that had surrounded him. I knew, however, that today I was a seed planter. God would send another to lead Peter on. Watering still needed to be done.
I handed him a small New Testament I kept with me. I encouraged him to read the book of John. He looked at the small book in his hands and smiled ear to ear. Behind him, a group of people came up beside him.
“Ola! There you are. How is shopping my dear one. Look, let me introduce you to a strange woman who likes her husband and doesn’t like shopping. And we have been having a wonderful conversation. Oh my goodness. I have lots to tell you and share with you!”
Ola, looked at her husband in absolute surprise. Her mouth hung open slightly. She turned and shook my hand as I introduced myself. Grown daughters and sons and grandkids also stepped up to say hello. They wanted to get a look at the strange woman.
Doug pulled up and parked. I introduced him to Peter and his family. Peter stood and pounded Doug on the back as he shook his hand.
Peter turned to me and enveloped me in a huge hug. God had opened the door. I stepped through. Joy was surrounding me.
I waved goodbye as Doug led me to the car. I buckled up and looked over my shoulder at the bench.
Once again, Peter was sitting on his end of the bench. But now, he was smiling and waving at everyone as they walked and drove by.
An open door. A life touched. God gets the glory.
Shopping today was good.
I could feel the presence of the man on the bench next to me. I looked around me and now I saw the people. Moving between buildings. Driving in cars or parking and moving away from them. People walking. People. And then I started praying.
I prayed for the people I could see and those connected to them. I prayed that a longing would fill their hearts to know The One who loves them unconditionally. That they would realize their need for Him. I prayed for their children. That mighty men and women would be raised up and be filled with joy of walking and knowing God. And I prayed for the man beside me. I prayed that if God would provide an opening, I would obediently step through.
And I sneezed.
I’m not talking about a sweet little “achoo”. I’m talking about a sneeze that rumbles up from the bottom of your feet and explodes out your nose. A BIG sneeze.
And beside me I heard, “Bless you!”
I smiled and thought, “Thank you Father. I’m stepping in now.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
He scowled at me. Still miffed, perhaps, that I dared sit on his bench. And then he asked me, “Who was the man you were with? You know, the guy who sat you on my bench?” (He was still annoyed.)
I turned and looked at him. “That’s my best friend and my husband. He’s a wonderful blessing in my life.” He turned towards me and with amazement exclaimed, “And you like him?”
“Yes. Yes, I really do!” He turned and faced the driveway again and muttered under his breath, “You are a strange woman.”
While scowling at the world, he asked, “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you shopping?” I grinned at him and said, “I really don’t like to shop.” He turned quickly towards me, eyes wide open in surprise. “What? You are a woman! You don’t like to shop? You really are a very strange woman.” He extended his large hand to me and introduced himself. “My name is Pyotr but you can call me Peter. Never Pete.”
He sat there looking at me. It was quiet on the bench between us but noise surrounded our little oasis of calm. Something changed in his eyes and he sighed.
“Tell me something,” he rumbled. “Are you one of those, you know, Born agains?”
“I am.”
He cocked his head to the left. “Can you tell me what that means. I’m really intrigued. You are different.”
I took a deep breath and started telling him my story. Of how angry I had always been. Of a life spent in conflict with those around me and the absolute emptiness of not having anything to hold onto. I then said, “In the Bible...”
“Stop!” He yelled. “Don’t bring up the Bible. I’ve never read it. I have no understanding of it. Why does it have to be a part of this. The faith I have is of my father, and his father before him, and his father before him. I am Orthodox and that’s what’s important. I know my history. “
I looked at him and explained. “That’s where we are different. My faith is in my Father. My Heavenly Father who loves me personally and very much individually and that faith is my own. God looked at my history and forgave me for all my mistakes and then gave me a future with him, both here on earth and in heaven.”
He scowled again, but not at me. He was thinking. “Okay,” he said. “You can talk about the Bible.”
“Let me tell you about one story that’s found in a book of the Bible called John. It’s about a man named Nicodemus who was very much like you. And he asked Jesus a question about being born again.”
As I talked, he would stop me and ask questions. His face relaxed and peace replaced the frustration that had surrounded him. I knew, however, that today I was a seed planter. God would send another to lead Peter on. Watering still needed to be done.
I handed him a small New Testament I kept with me. I encouraged him to read the book of John. He looked at the small book in his hands and smiled ear to ear. Behind him, a group of people came up beside him.
“Ola! There you are. How is shopping my dear one. Look, let me introduce you to a strange woman who likes her husband and doesn’t like shopping. And we have been having a wonderful conversation. Oh my goodness. I have lots to tell you and share with you!”
Ola, looked at her husband in absolute surprise. Her mouth hung open slightly. She turned and shook my hand as I introduced myself. Grown daughters and sons and grandkids also stepped up to say hello. They wanted to get a look at the strange woman.
Doug pulled up and parked. I introduced him to Peter and his family. Peter stood and pounded Doug on the back as he shook his hand.
Peter turned to me and enveloped me in a huge hug. God had opened the door. I stepped through. Joy was surrounding me.
I waved goodbye as Doug led me to the car. I buckled up and looked over my shoulder at the bench.
Once again, Peter was sitting on his end of the bench. But now, he was smiling and waving at everyone as they walked and drove by.
An open door. A life touched. God gets the glory.
Shopping today was good.
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