I like the table next to the wall of windows on the east side of my neighborhood Starbucks. The big table. The one with the little blue handicap sticker on the bottom right corner. I’ve never seen a brother in a wheelchair in there but the second I do, I’ll give him my seat. ‘Cause it is the most brilliant seat in the cafe. Close enough to the door to catch a glimpse of everyone entering and far enough from the noise of the espresso machine. When a storm rolls in you feel like it is going to swallow you whole as the windows are thin enough to feel their vibrations as the water hits the glass. Sometimes I go in just to watch a storm roll by. I also like that I can watch the baristas do their thing. “Hey! Welcome to Starbucks!” Every freaking time. Like clockwork. And it’s not only the ambiance of this corporate facade of a local grind that captures me. It’s also Adam. Adam is a barista in his early thirties with a beard that would make Kimbo cry mercy. This thing is on. Maybe a foot long. Manly. I’m sure smelly. It just plain dominates. Adam’s face is dominated by that beard. It is him. He is it. I only know Adams forehead, cheeks, nose and eyes. The rest of his face is beard. So needless to say when I walked in tonight to grab my venti skinny hazlenut latte (I know, not really a manly drink), I did a triple take when I saw Adam. Without his beard.
Dude. It was freaky. I smiled, gave some really horrible word of affirmation, and walked quickly to my seat. Adam chuckled his 6′3″ chuckle and said…”Different huh?” I was like…” Woah. Dude. Why? I mean, cool. But wow.” By this point Adam knew I was officially out of words and one more “dude” would have Keanued me. “I had that beard for 12 years. Not many people have seen me without it. My wife has never seen me without it. My 2 kids have never seen me without it. I just thought it was time for a change.” “You ain’t lying dude”, I said. Once again resorting to my Southern California safety net of a 4th grade noun.“What about your kids? Did they freak?” “You know Carlos, I thought really long and hard about that. I mean they are 4 and 6. They have only known their father with a beard yet that is only one way of looking at me. I am still me without my beard. They have just never experienced me this way. So you know what I did? I had them shave my beard off for me. Never looking away from me. That way they could see that my eyes were still my eyes and I am still their dad. About half way through my oldest got a bit bored and wanted to go finish his movie. I didn’t let him. I told him he had to finish. By the time they were finished, well, they never flinched. It was as if they had always seen me this way.”
When he got done I think my mouth was 1/4 the way open and my lips were dry from being entranced. I quickly snapped out of it and told him something about how much younger he looks and how I wish I could grow a beard like his but the bald spot on my middle left cheek would do me in. I was mumbling words but all I could think about was the amazing word picture he just painted me of my relationship with my Savior King. How when I look away from him in times of chaos, then look back up and the sun is hitting Him from a different direction, I freak and think he’s changed. I doubt. I run. I fear. I’m confused. All the while He is telling me, “Carlos, it’s Me. Don’t look away son. Stare at Me through this crap in your life and you will see My never endings. I am the same yesterday, today, and forever. I may look different because of the way I am painted by sermon series, worship songs, Bible translations, and consumer Christianity. But I promise you son. Stare into My eyes and know I hold you and will never leave you and never change.” All that went rushing through my head in a matter of seconds. “Carlos? Los?”, Adam brought me back into ventiland. “Oh. Yea. Man. Dude. Wow. Yea. That’s rad. I like it Adam. And I’m glad you had your kids see that through with you. You’re a smart man” Just then what seemed like 13 Jr. High cheerleaders came in and all ordered 12 dollar drinks while talking on their cell phones. Adam just smiled and served them graciously.
I got up and left as soon as I could before this guy could represent Jesus to me 3 times in one night. 2 was all I could take. On the way home I glanced in my rear view mirror. My beard is so poser. So loser. So metrosexual. But don’t think I’m not going to have my kids shave that bad boy off before the end of the week.
Staring at His face.
Los
[The article, "The Beard," was written by Carlos Whittaker. You can check him out at http://www.ragamuffinsoul.com/.]
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