He started coughing again just before he headed into the McDonald’s. He stayed outside, knowing he’d be barking for a few moments. It was loud and obnoxious and usually made heads turn since it sounded so rough. Hey, he was a big guy, and he had a big set of lungs. People needed to relax. But Joe also knew they didn’t need him roaring and filling the air with germs while they ate their pancakes and Egg McMuffins.
He could tell it was getting worse. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know that. The visit last night hadn’t been to see what was wrong. It was simply to help him try to make it momentarily better.
Momentarily.
A term he’d heard a nurse use. He liked it because that was basically what each life on this earth happened to be. We were all souls momentarily living in these flawed and deteriorating bodies, momentarily trying to make connections while living out our lives. It didn’t matter if someone momentarily lived to be a hundred years old or if they were a tragedy at twelve. In light of eternity, every single thing could fall under the term momentarily.
The coffee tasted extra awesome this morning. November shouldn’t have been this cold but then again, it had been a while since he’d spent the night outside. Back in the old days, he’d had some extra fuel helping him stay warm. Whiskey has the tendency to do that for you. And he couldn’t call what he used to do sleeping. It was more like falling into a drunken stupor.
Seventeen years.
That’s how long it had been since he’d taken a drink. Actually, seventeen years and five months and twenty days. He knew it by the day. Not a day went by when he didn’t think of the guy he used to be. But now, after nearly coughing up a lung, he couldn’t help but think back to the younger version of Joe. The healthier version that he’d tried to destroy in every way possible.
God didn’t let Joe finish the job. Instead, God decided to step in and finish it.
To finish me.
This body was just a temporary thing that was giving out a little more each passing day. But Joe knew that and was at peace with it. He was just thankful for every morning he could awaken with it. For every day that God blessed him with.
It’s what you do with those days that matter.
He quickly finished the coffee to warm up and get rid of the fog in his head. Then he ordered some breakfast to go and headed back to his apartment.
Joe wondered what Lily and Samantha were doing at this moment. If they had checked his fridge or pantry searching for food, they would have been very disappointed. He didn’t spend a lot of time at his apartment. And he never really concerned himself with planning for meals. A lot of his meals were either at the church or with some of the other ministries he helped out with.
When you donate your time and your service, people feed you well. Joe and his belly knew this well.
He knocked on the door and hoped they were still there. It was early Sunday morning, but still—one never knew. But sure enough, the door opened and Samantha stood there making sure it was him.
“Room service,” he said, showing her the bag.
The cough came again, and he tried as hard as he could to contain it. He coughed only a few times, holding in his breath and trying to stop it from tickling.
“You don’t look too good,” Samantha told him.
He offered a simple, friendly smile.
Usually when you sleep on a park bench, you wake up looking a little like this.
“I’m fine,” he said as he followed her inside his apartment. “You guys hungry?”
Lily shouted out a yes as she saw the bag in his hand.
“I bet you don’t like McDonald’s, do you?” he joked as he unpacked the bag. “Now I wasn’t sure exactly what you ladies might like, so I got a selection. We have a sausage McMuffin; a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit; a fruit parfait; some oatmeal.”
“You really didn’t have to,” Samantha told him.
He gave her a look that said, I thought we were over that now.
“Joe, guess what?” Lily shouted out beside him.
“What?”
The girl darted into the room where they’d slept and brought back his glass gallon jar full of change and bills.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha quickly said, looking embarrassed. “I was just looking for some cereal—something for breakfast—and Lily discovered that.”
“It’s okay,” Joe said, looking at the girl. “That’s my ‘wish jar.’ ”
Lily’s eyes widened. “What’s it for?”
“Well, that’s the thing about wishes. You’re not supposed to tell or they don’t come true.”
“Maybe you oughta hide it better.”
He couldn’t help laughing.
The honesty of a child.
“Yes, maybe I should.”
The laugh made him start coughing again, and this time he couldn’t hold it down there. He put his hands up to cover it and then he coughed into his arm. It felt like a truck driving through his gut and peeling out of his chest. He couldn’t stop it but could only watch it pass by and leave him breathless.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
He nodded.
The mom with her girl and nowhere to stay is asking me if I’m fine.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Joe wasn’t just giving her lip service, either. He meant those words.
He found some plates and offered one to Lily.
“Now whatdya say we eat?”
Lily grabbed the plate. “Yeah!”
The small, square table sandwiched between the kitchen and the family room/bedroom wasn’t much but they all fit around it anyway. Joe couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually sat down at this table to eat. It had been a while.
It was easy to give God thanks this morning before taking the first bite of his biscuit. He couldn’t remember ever having anybody to dine with in this small space. So this was a first.
A very welcome first.