Eight hours a day the flagman stands exterior my residence as development vans start work on a brand new constructing down the cul-de-sac. Few automobiles cross, however he should stand there all day.
It’s monotonous work, I choose, and I ponder about his life. After a number of journeys not acknowledging him once I go away my parking storage, I pause and say, “Hello,” by means of my window. “How ya doin’ out here?” I ask.
He responds with enthusiasm regardless of expressing weariness as his workday nears its shut. He’s going to a prayer and worship occasion tonight, and he hopes his pals will save him a seat. “I hope I can stay awake,” he admits. Ah! He is a believer. I say I imagine God will meet him there. Now he is aware of, too, that we each are in Jesus’ household. We focus on a few of our favourite Christian rock artists. The 30-one thing flagman chats freely and fortunately, and I smile, however I’m absorbed with the place I’m speeding to be. When I return from the shop, the employees have all gone residence.
On Monday at 6:45 a.m., I look out my window throughout prayer and spot the flagman arriving early for his 7 a.m. shift. He drags an indication down the street to alert automobiles that he will probably be up the street, telling them to decelerate or cease. How accountable he’s! I remorse judging that his shouldn’t be the most effective job.
I determine to hope for the boss strolling previous. He barely seems to be on the flagger who greets him kindly. I pray for the protection of all the coming employees. The flagman holds his signal.
Jesus stands exterior my window with the message, “Loretta, slow down.” And typically he tells me to cease. Consider. Pay consideration. Notice.
Jesus wears a tough hat and neon vest. His again is to me, however he’s there, a sentinel to focus my busy record.
My home windows are open to gather the morning coolness. I flip the sound bar of our widescreen TV to the opening and blast out Christian music. I watch because the flagman turns. I smile and wave from my second-story window. He tentatively lifts a hand.
I am going to the balcony and say, “Hello.” “I wondered if you were waving at me,” he says. “I just said to a coworker that I wish I could play some Christian music, but I didn’t think it would be professional.”
His comment catches me off-guard. I didn’t anticipate such care from a flagger. How severely he does his job, and with pleasure! Of course he does. He is Jesus, standing exterior my window. What he does is essential. I made assumptions about his profession and mine.
As far as we all know, Jesus lived an unremarkable life in Nazareth for 30 years. What did he do of worth in that point? Maybe he was a flagman for carpenters and development employees in his neighborhood.
In the flagman I see Jesus, who held up the signal of the cross along with his physique.
Image by OlinEJ from Pixabay.