This past Sunday, a dear, elderly man came to our outdoor service for the first time. He often frequents our Wednesday morning coffee & prayer fellowship. He is always gracious, always has a kind word, always a warm smile.

The day was sunny and hot. Folks began gathering in the shade of the sycamore 45 minutes before the service was to begin.  Some time before the start of the service, this gentleman came walking across the parking lot, carrying a small folding chair. He was dressed in dark trousers and a deep tan shirt, ironed crisply and buttoned up. He wore a simple wooden cross. He greeted us warmly and accepted a cool bottle of water before planting his chair near the base of the tree. He looked regal as he sat tall in that simple chair — but it was a royalty grounded in utter humility. He was like a tree himself, deeply rooted, full of life in a quiet sort of way even as the love in him emanated like branches reaching out. He embodied dignity and reverence.