He was walking down the median wearing a blue and white striped button up dress shirt. It was far too large and looked unkempt tucked into his sagging faded black slacks. His coat hung heavily in his arm and each step fell with the weight of a long difficult day.
I only saw a glimpse of him. It was quickly gone as I flew down the road, but what I saw was clear. He had a mullet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mullet that looked even remotely attractive, and I still can’t figure out why anyone would get one on purpose. Therefore, I have a standing belief that, somewhere out there, there’s a rogue barber who wears a dark skin-tight super villain outfit and attacks unsuspecting trailer parks. Either that or a fashion and style magazine that has countless people deceived.
This man’s mullet, turning grey, was slicked back with gel and his mustache and goatee were wiry. The long walk in the warm, humid summer night had dampened his forehead and left his face exhausted.
For the next few hundred yards, as I drove on, I began analyzing what I saw, “Does he get up in the morning, slick back his mullet, and say to the mirror, ‘That is one sexy man!’” I shook my head in disgust. “People live like this and have no shame? What could possibly possess someone to-”
“Travis.” The sigh in the silence of the car was embarrassing. God didn’t have to say anything else. I knew better. I naturally judge others. It’s instinctive. Yet here is a man who may have a family back home, and works two jobs. He doesn’t drive a car because he’s saving every dollar for them. He walks instead. He wears the nicest clothes he can find and gets his hair cut once every few months, all to give everything he has to the ones he loves. And more importantly than all of that, God loves him desperately!
So here I sit with my air conditioner blowing… judging a man without.