A Gift of Connection

It’s Saturday morning, and my brother Sam and I are getting haircuts. I step out of the barber chair and run a hand through my hair. It feels neat and even, not like the wild tangle I’m used to. I walk out to the seating area and motion to Sam that it’s his turn.

“Do you have my book?” I ask him. I’m looking forward to having a few minutes to read a novel. I’m busy all the time, and I need a brief escape.

“I left it on the chair,” he says. “But you won’t get a chance to read it,” he whispers. “That lady’s a talker.”

He nods toward an older lady sitting in the chair next to my book.  She’s smiling and taking in everything around her. She taps her foot as if she’s keeping time to a beat that only she hears.

“Hello,” I say as I sit down. I crack open my book.

“You must be Sam’s brother,” she says.

I close my book.

“I had such a nice time talking with him,” she says. “We actually have a lot in common. I have four siblings as well. I’m the baby of my family.”

I was not prepared for this level of conversation this morning.  I just wanted some quiet.  But I also don’t want to be rude.

“I’m the oldest,” I say. “What’s it like being the youngest?”

“It’s good when you have brothers and sisters like mine. Growing up, they always made me feel like one of the big kids. My brother taught me how to play the piano, and my sister taught me how to sew. I miss those days.”

“Do you keep in touch?” I ask.

“We do. Before my mother passed, she asked me to do one thing: make sure my brothers and sisters stayed connected. She was afraid we would drift apart. So we write each other. I send a letter to my brother Paul. He adds to the letter, then sends it to my sister Alice.  It goes from sibling to sibling until it comes back to me.”

“And then?” I ask.

“I start a new letter,” she says. “Being connected with others is one of the greatest gifts you can have.”

Her words are true.

God created us to be relational. He knew it wasn’t good for man to be alone. The ability to connect with others is a valuable gift. It allows us to learn and to grow. It allows to listen and be heard.

I almost missed out on the gift of connection this morning. I didn’t want conversation; I wanted quiet. But if God had let me have things my way, I wouldn’t have met this woman and learned about her life.

“I think they’re ready for me,” the lady says as she stands. “Nice to meet you.  Keep those younger brothers of yours in line.”

I open my book again. It looks like I’ll have a few minutes to read after all. But the story I’m most grateful for this morning is one I hadn’t expected.