John

He staggered to the car.  Clearly, he was unable to drive.  He reached for the car door handle and missed.  It was obvious that his hand was not getting the signal from his brain quickly enough. He reached again and made contact. He opened the car door and managed to coil himself into the driver's seat.

From the window of the restaurant:

"He's not going to drive like that is he?"

"Who...?"

I originally met him while up at the register ordering our lunch. He chatted with me and asked what I had been doing on this fine Sunday afternoon. I told him about soccer for the rugrat and he shared that his son played soccer too. He asked me what I was having for lunch and I told him I come here for the one-of-a-kind chicken salad. I told him that I had originally been across town, but that one has closed so we trekked all the way over here, out of our way, because the chicken salad is that good.

From the window of the restaurant:

"I can't believe he's actually going to drive. Somebody should stop him."

"Well...do something about it! Make it happen!"

I ran outside and tapped on his window afraid that he would shoo me away or worse, get angry and possibly violent. Luckily he was open to the gesture and opened his car door. I told him he can't drive in this state. I reminded him of his son, the one who plays soccer and who he's so proud. I suggested that maybe he place a picture of his pride on the dashboard.

With some prodding and an invitation to sit with us for a while, he agreed to come back inside. We sat. We chatted. We convinced him we have no ulterior motive. We are simply two human beings concerned for the life of others. Even in his completely obliterated drunken state he understood. It was time to leave and he agreed to let us drive him home. She drove him home in his car and I followed.

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I could not have done it without you mom and I believe God was shining through us last Sunday.