There was a look of deep fatigue in his face and bearing. He raised his eyebrows, swallowed, and started to say something, but hesitated and then just slowly shook his head.

I could neither question him nor make any comment on what he'd revealed. After a quiet interval he said, "And the invitation of Our Lord, what was it? Oh, yes, 'Show mercy, do justice, be humble. Repent, if you are able and follow me.'" He remembered the meaning if not the exact phrasing of the Master's call. He forgot the bit about the getting of wisdom.

Then he said, "That sacred summons is most challenging considering how difficult it is for any of us to come to terms with those requirements and transform our blindness and selfishness to vision and love. It took death for me to reckon with it. And that is the shame of it all-yes, sir, a damnable, damnable shame!" He squeezed his lips tight, gave me a slight nod with the saddest eyes I had ever looked into…the saddest. He then offered a brave little, embarrassed smile.

Then with urgency he slid out of the booth placing his old top hat square on his head. "Farewell, Mr. Mansfield, friend and neighbor," he said.

Before I could protest, he quickly turned and walked toward the door tossing up his cane and catching it about a third of the way up with the same hand. He stopped and turned back toward me, ten feet away from our booth, nodded and touched his silver tipped cane to his hat brim. He said, "It has been an exceeding pleasure, sir, and my best wishes and sincere solicitudes for your undertaken. I trust I have been of some assistance, Farewell, Friend Mansfield." He paused, making intentional eye contact, and said, "I have left a note for you there in the seat. Perchance it may be of interest to you. Much obliged for your interest and strenuous pursuit."

With that, he broke eye contact and looked at the floor between us. It appeared he had a small smile and then he turned and walked out. I would not 'see' him again this side of forever.

***

I retrieved the note. In a magnificent, artistic, antique script that Miss Adelaide would judge beautiful and excellent penmanship, it read: Friend Mansfield, Sir, There are some documents and sacred mementos to be found in my wardrobe at your Mr. Wyatt's shop. There is a secret compartment in the back of the bottom left drawer secured by four brass screws. I bequeath the contents of that drawer to you. Pray they will be helpful in your work. It is my hope for you that you will be as fair and as good as your conscience and passions permit in writing my story. I have endeavored to be thus in my help to you. Granted, Sir I was reluctant to tell the complete story but it seems it has been told. As sinners all, does it not behoove us to be gentle one with another? Sir, I differ from St. Paul about what is the greatest thing. The greatest thing is a seasoned, sweeter, and wiser form of charity: Grace. Humbly Your friend, Geo. W. Jones October 24, 2004 Fayetteville, Tenn. I re-read the underlined phrase, 'as fair and as good,' and wondered out loud about his hierarchy of values…the primacy of Grace over faith, hope and love: charity in the old translations. I found I most certainly agreed with his rankings.




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