Crinkly smile lines grace Barney's face as he directs traffic in a small gated golf community in the South. Always a smile, always a handshake, always an encourager - that's Barney. I've known Barney for twelve years now, through trials and celebrations. Today, his was a quiet, understanding smile as I spoke of our broken family unit and tributions of crushed teens amidst the burden of the dreaded "d" word. Some days I can not even bring myself to say it. But today, he identified with it and shared his own pain. "Years ago," he said, "the same thing happened to his family of four." He stared off into the palm-treed lined pavement, shaking his head as if remembering hard details. "It is like a death," he said, "except it never goes away." But then, his smile regained its full breadth over his face again, and I could breathe again, not daring to move my eyes or my car away from his quiet musings of his past. He looked back at me, and patted my hand, "But you, you are made of strong stuff, you will make it." It gave me fresh hope. "My children made it through "it", yours will too."
Funny how life can stop and pause at a guardhouse shack in a gated community on a sunny day, and a man like Barney can "open the gate" and flood the sunshine back in. Thank you God - for Barney!
