There are times when the ‘pictures’ that we see never make it to a camera but they linger in our hearts. A “Norman Rockwell” picture happened to me today…
It was crowded in the fast food restaurant….screaming kids and harried parents. Loud music and the smell of burgers frying. An old cowboy walked in the door, stood in line, and carefully carried his food to a table. He had silver hair and a mustache to match. The lines that radiated out from the corners of his eyes were deep from squinting into a harsh sun over many a year. His eyes were pale blue as a washed out summer sky. The boots were scuffed and his jeans had a carefully mended tear at the knee.
A weathered hand came up and he took off his Stetson and bowed his head and in that hectic place his lips moved silently as he said grace. There was a quietness about him and a dignity I’ll not forget. That is the kind of man that built our land and in tiny tucked away places he lives still….