When a young soldier walked in and found no place to sit, Mike invited him to eat with us. He was from North Carolina, shy, recently divorced, with a five-year-old daughter back home. He seemed lonely. Mike engaged him in a conversation about college basketball and they swapped stories of coaches and players. When we left, the young man thanked us for the company.
These are the kinds of things Mike does every day. He talks with people in wheel chairs and the men bussing the tables and the women who clean the rooms. He seems to have a sixth sense about anyone who's lonely or in pain. In fact, that's why he's here--on the planet and in my house right now. I was going through a challenging week and he and MoJo got in the truck and drove here. "MoJo loves coming to see Mama and them," he says, laughing. I think I'M now "Mama and 'em"
Mike loves my friends. "You have a treasure chest in all your friends," he says.
Mojo, who's usually a perfect gentleman of a dog, however, transgressed when we went over to Jan's the other day and peed on her floor! I was mortified, but Jan made a joke of it, cleaned it up, and let it go.
Like the Dalai Lama who says, "My religion is kindness," Mike's religion is kindness.
I'm remembering that night at a rodeo when Nathan walked up to me and asked, "Do you think Mike would build me a go-kart?"
"I don't know, let's ask him," I said--dialing Mike's number.
"Will you build me a go-kart?" Nathan asked--to which Mike responded, "Yes, sure, I'll build you one." The next trip to Texas, he had Nathan's go-kart in the back of the truck.
"Ask and you shall receive," it says in Bible and in the bible of Mike's religion. All of us who know Mike well know that all we have to do is ask and he'll do it.
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