In 2006 I was in Budapest teaching a class in Apologetics when I took this picture. I was free most afternoons for a bit, and would routinely take the tram downtown to the Vaci' or to the Synagogue, or the Basilica. One of the most fascinating things to me about traveling is just seeing the people; thinking about how different their lives are from mine; thinking about what they've been through.
I noticed a man sitting across from me who was quite old, I am thinking late 80's or so. I noticed his old, but well cared for felt hat, the lines around his tired, but friendly eyes, the creases in his pleasant, wizened face, his unpretentious very worn clothing, his very old, well-built and well worn, leather shoes. I was suddenly captured by this man and I began - while not staring - to wonder what his life might have been like. Finally, I snapped a picture of his shoes... because I was suddenly struck by the dust on them... and the miles they'd traveled... and what they had travelled through. It's turned into a thing with me now... for some reason. I don't like to get rid of shoes that I've worn in my travels... my current pair of Doc Martens have dust on them from Washington, Oregon, Idaho, England, Romania, Croatia, Hungary, France, and the Philippines. It's a subtle reminder to me of the journey I've been on for these years of my adult life.
I thought about this aged man's journey... the joys and pleasures of his life, and the trials and struggles his shoes had taken him through. I realized that if he was in his late 80's he could have been born at the tail end of World War I... maybe just after. He could have served in the Red Army of Hungary by conscription, or with the Hungarian Second Army that was almost completely wiped out at the Battle of Stalingrad. He certainly walked the streets of Budapest under Nazi occupation witnessing the deportations of the Hungarian Jewish people. (834,000 Jews were deported from Budapest alone from 1941 to March of 1945. The fascist Arrow Cross Party executed 10 to 15,000 more on the banks of the Danube River between November 1944 and February 1945); He certainly walked the streets of Budapest during the Stalinist era and Soviet occupation. He would have been in his Mid-Thirties during the 1956 Revolution and perhaps late 60's or early 70's when the Soviet Union withdrew its last forces from Hungary between 1989 and 1991.
As I observed this old gentleman my mind was captivated in wonder about his story... where it had taken him, the adventures he'd lived, the sorrow he'd faced, and the wonderful celebrations of his life. He was living in the last quarter century of his life... nearing the end of his journey. I'm in the middle, or something like that, just under 50. I'm most likely halfway home, unless I live to a really ripe old age. This summer is my 30 year high school reunion, I've been in my career for 25 years, my first child is an adult, and the other two are on the way, and I just past 23 years being married. Once in a while it starts to hit me... what will the rest of life look like?
A couple summers ago I had a chance to take a class from Earl Palmer an author, scholar of C.S. Lewis, a great pastor at University Presbyterian Church in Seattle, and an excellent professor. I was struggling a bit with my future and ministry... you know, what to do when I grow up. He and I were having lunch because I'd ask him if I could talk with him about that. He said something that I'll never forget. I was telling him that as I was getting older I just wondered if it was getting to late for me to do some of the things I'd dreamed of doing still.
Earl said, "How old do you think I am?" I didn't have a clue and I sure wasn't going to guess. He said, "I'm 83 years old... (or something like that I don't remember the exact age)... and do you know what I believe? My best days are yet to come. It stopped me because I realized that he'd already experienced more success than many people will ever reach, and yet he wasn't resting on the good ol' days... he was looking forward to the new adventures lying ahead, to embrace them with energy and vigor and excitement.
I don't want to get tired, cynical, or so beaten up by life that I stop looking forward to the adventures that lie ahead - to the new challenges and opportunities right in front of me to learn grow, and live. I am grateful for the realization that I haven't gotten tired, cynical, or too beaten up to look forward to the days ahead because as I enjoy some vacation days away... I am looking forward to getting home and back to work... looking forward to gathering some more dust on my old boots.
