I had heard and seen him before, this boy that had gone to my school. His name seemed to come up quite often when the detention list was read out loud. His name was Peter and he wasn’t exactly shy. There never seemed to be a moment growing up that Peter didn’t have something to say. Always questioning the teachers about the answers to math problems and spelling tests. Not that he was a genius or even slightly intelligent, he just always had something to say. In third grade, when we started being tested on multiplication, the whole class missed recess due to the hour long discussion between Peter and the teacher on why we bothered with multiplication in the first place.
Peter was the talker, the emotional child, the question asker, the one who had an opinion about everything. He had red hair and freckles that were equally loud and unforgettable sea green eyes. Most days Peter would wear comfy jeans and his loudest Hawaiian shirt. Living in Missouri, Peter’s shirts didn’t exactly fit in… But some how, Peter was liked. By most people actually. Maybe it was ability to wink and smile at every girl no matter what grade in elementary, and how on the first day of school he would bring the teacher an apple. Of course, I was lucky enough to have Peter in my class from kindergarten to the sixth grade. Peter was never really my friend; I figured that loud boys that winked could be dangerous. I actually found him to be quite an annoyance.
But then one day, Peter was gone. It was the start of middle school and his bright red hair and loud Hawaiian shirt was no where to be found. As I sat in math class that day I sort of missed the little guy. The room was so quiet, and no one had anything to say about the algebra we were learning. Most of my classmates realized that he was gone, but no one had heard of where he had moved to.
Well, the years went by and I had forgotten all about this boy. All until yesterday, when I saw Peter six years later. He was standing in front of me while I was waiting in line to get my morning star bucks before class. Dressed in nice jeans and a dress shirt, I didn’t even recognize him. His red hair and freckles had seemed to calm down a bit. Peter seemed totally different. Until he ordered his coffee. He spent about 5 minutes telling the lady how he wanted his coffee made and then spent another couple asking her about everything from how she liked her job, to if she any pets at home.
I laughed to myself and stepped forward to order my usual. That’s when it happened.
“Gracie, is that you?”
What? He knew my name and remembered me? “Um, yeah, actually I go by Grace now.”
“Yeah, Yeah, Grace, I’m sorry.” He kept smiling at me like we had always been the best of friends.
“Well, Gracie, you want to sit and drink some coffee with me? Looks like there is a table for two right by the window.”
I knew I should get to class, but there was something about Peter that I wanted to know a little more about. “Why not, I haven’t seen you in years.”
I spent three hours talking to Peter that day. He smiled and listened to me for a good part of our conversation. There was something different in his eyes, and I didn’t think it was the coffee. I began to ask him questions and that’s when I figured it out. Peter had God. I had seen him in Sunday school growing up, but we had both only been children then.
That’s when Peter started to tell me his story. He had trials, temptations, and times when it seemed there was no way out. He told me of his mess ups and the redemption that Christ had given him. He felt that Christ had called him to preach to the world, and that he would was going to tell everyone he could about Jesus until he was killed for it. At times during the conversation I had to remember to breathe. This was amazing, Peter, of all people was being used for Christ and in the middle of the most incredible adventure I had ever heard of.
I gave Peter a hug after we talked in the coffee shop that day, and I don’t know if I will ever see him again until heaven. But I do know one thing, Peter inspired me. Peter let me know what it meant to follow Jesus. Peter was loud and emotional and made mistakes, but Peter chose to yield to God. Peter chose to live a different life, a set-apart life. And I do too. `
Jesus, you know me. You know my heart. I love you Lord. I know you love me. Sometimes it is so easy to get wrapped up in my own life, in my own worries and struggles. I know I try to do things on my own Jesus. Draw me close to you!! Sometimes I feel so lost but so good at making it seem that I know where I am going. I have all the right things to say but when it comes to doing them, I freeze. Jesus...I love India. I know it was a spiritual high but it really feels like so much more than that too. It was hard but I loved the people and the children and the culture... I want to go back Lord. You have surprised me with this passion for a place I never really thought about a year ago. Take me back to India. Raise the money. Let me have faith that your will is going to be done! Sometimes I think people think I like India because it is easier to talk about God when people want to hear about it. Maybe it is true...but I feel that you have called me to do missions Lord. And sometimes...it seems I have to explain it to the people who should support me. Let me trust you Jesus. Draw me close to your heart. Let me breathe you each day Jesus. Let me fall head over heels in love with you! I sometimes am scared or think negatively about love...let me see its beauty with you Jesus. I thank you for so many blessings. So many things you give to me. Let me serve you each day. Let me speak truth and love. You know me Lord. You know my heart. I love you!
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