Rockingham Remembered
Short Stories
The Long Walk
I sat, with two friends, in the picture window of
a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the
town-square. The food and the company were
both especially good that day.

As we talked, my attention was drawn outside,
across the street. There, walking into town,
was a man who appeared to be carrying all his
worldly goods on his back He was carrying, a
well-worn sign that read, "I will work for food."

My heart sank. I brought him to the attention
of my friends and noticed that others around
us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads
moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

We continued with our meal, but his image
lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and
went our separate ways. I had errands to do
and quickly set out to accomplish them.

I glanced toward the town square, looking
somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor.
I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again
would call some response. I drove through
town and saw nothing of him.

I made some purchases at a store and got back
in my car. Deep within me, the Spirit of God
kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the
office until  you've at least driven once more
around the square." Then with some hesitancy,
I headed back into town.

As I turned the square's third corner. I saw
him. He was standing on the steps of the
storefront church, going through his sack. I
stopped and looked; feeling both compelled to
speak to him, yet wanting to drive on.

The empty parking space on the corner seemed
to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I
pulled in, got out and approached the town's
newest visitor.

"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.

"Not really," he replied, "just resting."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Oh, I ate something early this morning."

"Would you like to have lunch with me?"

"Do you have some work I could do for you?"

"No work," I replied. "I commute here to work
from the city, but I would like to take you to
lunch."

"Sure," he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things, I asked some
surface questions. "Where you headed?"

"St. Louis."

"Where you from?"

"Oh, all over; mostly Florida."

"How long you been walking?"

"Fourteen years," came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat
across from each other in the same restaurant I
had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly
beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet
clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and
articulation that was startling. He removed his
jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said,
"Jesus is The Never Ending Story."

Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had
seen rough times early in life. He'd made some
wrong choices and reaped the consequences.
Fourteen year earlier, while backpacking
across the country, he had stopped on the
beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with
some men who were putting up a large tent
and some equipment. A concert, he thought.
He was hired, but the tent would not house a
concert but revival services, and in those
services he saw life more clearly. He gave his
life over to God.

"Nothing's been the same since," he said, " I
felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so
I did, some 14 years now."

"Ever think of stopping?" I asked.

"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the
best of me. But God has given me this calling. I
give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work
to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out
when His Spirit leads."

I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not
homeless. He was on a mission and lived this
way by choice. The question burned inside for
a moment and then I asked: "What's it like?"

"What?"

"To walk into a town carrying all your things on
your back and to show your sign?"

"Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would
stare and make comments. Once someone
tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a
gesture that certainly didn't make me feel
welcome. But then it became humbling to
realize that God was using me to touch lives
and change people's concepts of other folks like
me."

My concept was changing, too. We finished our
dessert and gathered his things. Just outside
the door, he paused. He turned to me and said,

"Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the
kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was
hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty
you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me
in."

I felt as if we were on holy ground. "Could you
use another Bible?" I asked.

He said he preferred a certain translation. It
traveled well and was to too heavy. It was also
his personal favorite. "I've read through it 14
times," he said.

"I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's
stop by our church and see." I was able to find
my new friend a Bible that would do well, and
he seemed very grateful.

"Where are you headed from here?"

"Well, I found this little map on the back of this
amusement park coupon."

"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?"

"No, I just figure I should go there. I figure
someone under that star right there needs a
Bible, so that's where I'm going next."

He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit
radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove
him back to the town-square where we'd met
two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started
raining. We parked and unloaded his things.

"Would you sign my autograph book?" he
asked. "I like to keep messages from folks I
meet."

I wrote in his little book that his commitment
to his calling had touched My life. I encouraged
him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse
of scripture from Jeremiah, "I know the plans I
have for you, "declared the Lord, "Plans to
prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give
you a Future and a hope."

"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met
and we're really just strangers, but I love you."

"I know," I said, "I love you, too."

"The Lord is good!"

"Yes, He is. How long has it been since
someone hugged you?" I asked.

"A long time," he replied.

And so on the busy street corner in the
drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced,
and I felt deep inside that I had been changed.

He put his things on his back, smiled his
winning smile and said, "See you in the New
Jerusalem."

"I'll be there!" was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away
with his sign dangling from his bedroll and
pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said,
"When you see something that makes you think
of me, will you pray for me?"

"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."

"God bless." And that was the last I saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the wind
blew strong. The cold front had settled hard
upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my
car. As I sat back and reached for the
emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of
well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over
the length of the handle.

I picked them up and thought of my friend and
wondered if his hands would stay warm that
night without them. Then I remembered his
words: "If you see something that makes you
think of me, will you pray for me?"

Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office.
They help me to see the world and its people in
a new way, and they help me remember those
two hours with my unique friend and to pray
for his ministry.

"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said. Yes,
Daniel, I know I will...