Smoke clung to the bottles behind the bar. The young writer gulped his drink. He was throwing a massive pity party. And he was the only one in attendance.
An older gentleman with a white beard tended bar. He had been there forever and seemed to have a knack of knowing what you wanted before you could even ask. There was a reason his tip jar was overflowing.
No one knew his real name. Folks just called him Gabe.
“I don’t get it, Gabe. I once prayed to become a writer and all I’ve gotten are obstacles thrown in my face.”
The writer’s pity party was so good he was even serving snacks.
“I entered college, told my advisor I wanted to be a writer and she told me not to bother. But I showed her and immediately got a job on the school paper. Then I graduate and couldn’t find a job. I ended up working in a scrap yard. But I worked hard and got an opportunity to write for a local a local paper. But that editor tried to fire me. I found a better job. Then I moved all around the country writing and won all kinds of awards — but was laid off in a round of budget cuts. Yet, I showed them by reinventing myself. Then another boss tried to make me quit. It’s one dam’ thing after another. What good are prayers anyway?”
Gabe smiled slightly and said, “Oh, your prayers were heard.”
The writer, half drunk and in full-pity mode, spat on the ground. “Bull $#%^.”
Gabe grinned, “I can tell you’re a writer by your command of the English language. Look, do you think the Good Lord is a genie?”
The writer looked up at the old man and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think everyone of those obstacles was meant to challenge you? To make you prove how badly you WANTED your dream?”
The writer arched an eyebrow, “Go on…”
“Look, if that advisor hadn’t told you not to go out for the paper, would you have?”
“Probably not.”
“Working in the scrapyard made you want your career even more, right?”
“Yes. I realized I was burying your talent.”
“Remember that editor who tried to fire you. Made you work even harder didn’t it?”
The writer nodded.
“And getting laid off didn’t stop you either. Sure it wasn’t fair. But life isn’t fair. You were challenged and you responded.”
“But what about…”
“The boss who tried to run you off? “Is he a terrible person?
“Yes.”
Gabe the bartender smiled. “And you worked even harder to prove him wrong, right?”
“Um, yes.”
Gabe dried another glass and set it on the bar, “Ever think that angels sometimes come in not-very-nice packages?”
The writer looked perplexed.
“That boss did you a favor. He pushed you. Look, son — Your prayers are being answered. You’re just having to do the work. And that’s the way it is supposed to be.”
The writer realized that every negative moment had actually been a test. A test to see if he really wanted his dream to come true. Like a stone polished in a tumbler, he had had to suffer some friction along the way.
“Gabe, you’re a genius.”
The old bartender smiled, “I know. Just leave me a good tip.”
“Yes.”
Gabe the bartender smiled. “And you worked even harder to prove him wrong, right?”
“Um, yes.”
Gabe dried another glass and set it on the bar, “Ever think that angels sometimes come in not-very-nice packages?”
The writer looked perplexed.
“That boss did you a favor. He pushed you. Look, son — Your prayers are being answered. You’re just having to do the work. And that’s the way it is supposed to be.”
The writer realized that every negative moment had actually been a test. A test to see if he really wanted his dream to come true. Like a stone polished in a tumbler, he had had to suffer some friction along the way.
“Gabe, you’re a genius.”
The old bartender smiled, “I know. Just leave me a good tip.”