It was a hot Oklahoma morning, and I had just finished getting my butt kicked at the gym. My workout partner and I made our way to the locally owned grocery store to pick up a few things, and just so you know, the grocery store is always more fun with a friend. We were just toodling around, getting close to be finished with our shopping when I saw the aisle of protein bars.
Keep in mind that we had just left our trainer, and he is constantly telling me I need to have a protein bar for a snack. I was looking for a chocolate chip cookie dough protein bar. They have them, and they aren't bad. Sorry, back to finding Mr. Moler. A friend of mine walked up and we started chatting about trying eat better, etc. As he walked off, a cute little eighty-five year old man started telling me that the reason it is hard to eat better these days is because it's too expensive. He had been looking at the Ensure products, and that is something I've never priced before so I just took his word for it.
The cutest little eighty-five year old man was wearing grey velcro shoes with a pair of really light colored Levi jeans, which happened to be rolled up at least twice. The roll on those jeans were a good three inches. He had on a wrinkled white button-down shirt, and had it tucked in all proper like. He wore glasses, and a ball cap.
Do you have him pictured yet?
My first reaction was to be polite, but to try to get away. I never know what to say to people, and I end up saying something really stupid. But, this man started telling me that he had to buy food for his seventeen dogs. SEVENTEEN! Wow, I thought three was a lot. He said that they had all been dumped out by his house. He said that he lives in the country, and it happens all the time. Well, he hit my weak spot, so we started talking. We shared stories about our dogs, and then we started talking about cats. This man had lost his wife, I think he said five years, and now his only companion at home is his favorite cat. He pulled out a little book from his shirt pocket, and from that he took a photo out to show me. He was cuddled with his cat. He had also rescued this cat, and all I could think was, what a kind hearted man.
We talked about our families. He was married to his best friend, but they never had children. He said he didn't want any. I told him that I married into a pre-made family, and I was more than content without having children of my own. I said that I believe God made some of us that way, and there was nothing wrong with it.
We stood in the middle of the aisle talking for approximately ten minutes. I learned that he had lived here all of his eighty-five years. He told me his address three or four times. And he mentioned that his family used to own a pharmacy here in town. Then he told me his name was Ollie Moler. He was lonely, and he just needed to talk.
Finally, he looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you for talking to me." I told him that it was my pleasure. He asked me if he could hug me, and how could I say no.
Mr. Moler and I said our goodbyes, and God Bless Yous, and headed for the checkout lines. I thought I had seen the last of him when he stopped by on his way out of the store to ask for my name and address. He told me his address again, and then told me come by and bring my husband. I said okay, and he was gone.
As I went out to my vehicle, I noticed him pushing his grocery cart full of dog food to his Grand Cherokee, and then the next time I glanced up, he was gone.
Mr. Ollie Moler.
I came home that day and told McD about my encounter with Mr. Moler. I told him that I wanted to find his house. I wanted to help him with the dog food, so that he could actually afford the Ensure instead of just looking at it, and leaving it on the shelf. I told him that I think God put me in that store, and on that aisle for a reason.
And now! Now, I can't find Mr. Moler.
The address he told me doesn't exist, unless I only heard part of it. I've driven up and down that road numerous times trying to find him. The other day, I had to just tell God that I didn't know what I was supposed to do if I couldn't find Mr. Moler. And the conclusion that I have come up with is that I wasn't supposed to do anything but listen to Mr. Moler. To hug his neck. To look at his photos. Maybe just brighten his day. I hope that is what I did for Mr. Moler.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still looking for him!