“Yeah, actually we were talking about our deepest desires yesterday.”
The 20-month-old shrieked, threw a crayon, and the practiced parents at our diner table quelled the crisis as they continued without significant interruption.
I sat discussing life’s big mysteries with two friends and their tiny daughter; the young couple that were starting a coffee shop in small-town Greenville where I happened to have spent many of my days over the past six months. I worked morning shifts for them a couple times a week. It was more a blessing for me than anything; a chance to win the friendship of its group of local regulars, remember how to pull an espresso shot, and add another manual activity to my weekly routine. We chased truth together. Most of the weekly conversation surrounded the daily and the upfront; the bills, the shop, their dreams for what it could be, and the in’s and out’s of rural life. But these conversations were punctuated with weightier musings. What is God? Who is (He)? Why does it matter?
In a quiet, resigned diner, one that knew its station in life, we were discussing ours. It was beautiful. It was poignant and the last time I’ll see them for a while, if not ever. I’m thankful for those moments.
What’s your deepest desire?