The Ways my Friends Witness…

I had a partially deaf, super-christian friend from Baylor come visit me once. Now, I care a lot about the guy and he is a genuinely nice person, but he is sometimes pushy about faith and gets a little aggravating. He is one of those people who I think are amazing but can only tolerate in small doses.
Anyway, he was originally from Georgia and the Braves were in town to take on my boys, my Astros, we both loved baseball so we decided that we would catch the game together.
The game was on a Sunday afternoon, so P drove in Saturday night and we went to church together Sunday morning and then to the game.
The game was awesome; my boys totally creamed the Cowards, *ahem* I mean Braves. P even sported an Astros shirt for me! We ate lots of ballpark food and took goofy pics throughout the facility and downtown, then finally headed back home so that he could get on his way back to Wac(k)o.
Now I live a solid 45 minutes from the ballpark and had, at the point when we got home, had my fill of P. After driving all the way home, packing his stuff and saying goodbye, P could not find his keys. Great, I thought, now I am stuck with him for who knows how much longer?!
He swore up and down that he must have lost them at the ball park, and me, as composed as possible, checked every possible space between my truck and his belongings. No llaves! The thought of driving all the way back to the ball park pretty much infuriated me because I knew that they probably would not let us in, assuming that we could even find parking within a 10 minute walk from the stadium. The whole way I wondered why the heck he would have taken his keys to the game anyway since I drove. Men, ugh. P… Double ugh!!
As I suspected an hour and a half later, we were parked but not inside of the stadium. Finally, we caught the attention of a custodial worker who passed by the doors, handed him our ticket stub and asked him to check the area around our seats for the keys… No luck.
At this point I am beyond irritated, and a bit worried that we will not find the keys and that P will wind up staying an extra night in my parents house. We stop at the church on the way home just to check. I decide to sit in the truck this time while P does the leg work.
It feels like forever before P comes walking out of the sanctuary building with, OMG, keys!!! And a damn sno-cone… Or should I say holy? Either way, he did not even have the decency to bring one for me!!!
I am all but bursting into flames while his face is lit with a smile at his success. Trucks get ungodly gas mileage. It felt like Jesus with a blonde Afro was mocking me…then I realized that He held the keys there so P could spend more time witnessing to me- reminding me to not get upset over small inconveniences and that even Christians make simple mistakes but possess the understanding necessary to admit to, accept and overcome these mistakes.
Oh how lifes little lessons are worth living.


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