OLD MAN RUFUS

COFFEE THOUGHTS: OLD MAN RUFUS Sip. Happy Monday!! Old man Rufus, I’ll name him Rufus. I was just a youngster when I heard about this praying man, Rufus. It left such an impact I still think of it often. I’ll try to tell it the best I know how. Known in the community yet hardly known. He was hardly ever at community functions, or seen around the community. Sometimes one would ask Rufus, come on down to the ball field. To which he’d say, ”I can’t, Monday is the night for mowing the grass down at the church.” Another time on a Tuesday a friend asked him out for lunch. ”Oh, I'd love to” he replied, ”but Tuesday evenings I do maintenance at the church.” Even the pastor mentioned to him, ”Saturday is the gospel bluegrass festival, come on out, there’ll be lots of food.” But Rufus would say, ”I’ll try, but Saturday is final cleanup and setup for Sunday.” And so his life went, he was there, but he wasn’t there. Always the same answers. Years went by, there were only a handful left at the little country church. It was just another Sunday morning the pastor walks in. He wasn’t surprised to see Rufus up at the altar praying. This was a normal Sunday routine for Rufus. The pastor did his thing, a few walked in and found their seats. The pastor noticed Rufus hadn’t moved since he came. The pastor quickly shuffled over to Rufus, tapped him on the shoulder, and immediately knew old Rufus was gone. Cold and stiff, hunched over the altar, Rufus was dead. If you ask the funeral director, he will get all excited when you begin to talk about the funeral of Rufus. He says he never saw anything like it. The building was slam full, long line of people. Everyone was talking. Talking to people they had never met. He said he never saw people walk by a casket, break down and weep as they did for Rufus. The rich, the poor, suits and ties, tattoos and chewing tobacco-stained faces, all huddled together as they walked by and talked about Rufus. All were drawn together because of one man, Rufus. The stories were endless, Rufus had cared, Rufus had listened, and Rufus had prayed. That was the life of Rufus. Rufus never preached a sermon. He never sang in the choir. He never led in Bible studies. He was not gifted with words, he rarely spoke. He was here, he was among us, hardly noticed, and then he was gone. In some ways he will hardly be missed, but deep in the hearts of the many he touched he will be forever remembered. And these will always speak fondly of Rufus, the man who quietly cared, who quietly prayed in private, and quietly changed the world. Gerald D Hochstetler Jr. #coffeethoughts on Facebook Used with Permission