Lawn chairs

"Hey John."
"Gia."
It was one thing I loved about John -- he knew when to talk and when to be quiet. Which got my mind wandering.
"Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me?" I asked this strange guy who had become such a staple in our lives.
He smiled and shook his head. "Sorry," he admitted, "but no."
"You told me that my name means hope."
"That's right," he said, his smile widening. "I remember now. And you looked at me like I had a snake growing out of my head or something."
"You know, I think I'd have a different reaction if you told me that today."
He turned slightly in his chair and looked at me more directly, his head cocked inquisitively, his face open and inquisitive. "Why do you say that?"
"You get to know a person when they're living in your backyard," I said, turning slightly myself. "And you are hopeful. You make people around you hopeful and peaceful." The words were coming without much thought, but as I said them it was mini lightbulbs kept flashing in my head. "You know, John, I never thought of it until right now -- and the Lord only knows why I'm thinking of it now -- but you really are just this...shiny, happy, peaceful, hopeful, light that's made our two little houses a whole lot brighter. I know you're the reason Maria and Grant have a healthier relationship, and now that I'm thinking about it Kathleen's been a lot less grouchy the past few months. What gives? Why are you still here? I mean, I'm glad clearly, but why? Seems like a lot of give and not much get to me."
John was silent a minute, clearly surprised by my words. Maybe just their timing.
"Well, that's a lot of questions," he said with a smile. "But first off...thanks. Secondly, it's not really me, and I know we talked about this some the other night, but all I can say is that shiny light is Jesus -- I'm just the stuff the light shines through. And as for why I'm still here..." he shrugged. "I go where the Spirit tells me go and stay as long as I need to. Maybe you all needed a little joy in your lives," he grinned again, "a little 'shiny, happy.' But it's not all one way. You guys have a unique family life going on here. There's a lot of love on both sides of this fence; you all just needed a little help not fighting it so much maybe. But I have to say, it's been awesome. I am really blessed here."
My eyes were filling up with tears, which was practically a miracle considering how much I'd cried in the past few days. I reached out my hand and John met it with his own. I squeezed. "Thank you," I said. "And I'm not entirely clear on what for -- more than just being here and being such a rock. But for that too. Just...thanks."
He put his other hand around mine and looked me square in the eyes. "Gia," he said. "I don't know when I'll get a chance to talk to you just like this again. So here's something very important -- no matter what happens in the next few days, please start looking for Jesus. If things turn out to be hard, you won't want to; you'll want to be angry and that's okay. Jesus is big enough for your anger. He wants you to come find him and it's the only way you'll get through this crisis -- or if there is no crisis -- the next one. Please, Gia."
The love and authenticity of his request made my heart ache, but I couldn't respond. So I squeezed his hand. But he knew what I meant.