Recently my wife and I were at a fast-food restaurant. The service was not fast. As I impatiently waited at the counter, a young man who works at the establishment stepped away and began blathering on with one of the cooks in the kitchen. Their conversation seemed to have nothing to do with burgers or fries or serving the increasingly annoyed old man waiting to give his order.
When this effeminate young man finally presented himself at the counter, I noticed his unkempt appearance and his greasy hair with bleached streaks. He also had some piercings and at least three visible tattoos. His burger shirt was wrinkled and messy. As I stood there silently judging him, I could barely hold my composure. Why should I have been kept waiting while he appeared to be flirting with the guy in the back?
I girded my loins for a confrontation because I was certain that he would challenge my order of two Kid Meals (because I really don’t look like I’m 12 or younger) but instead he politely accepted my request with a smile and a “thank you”. I was a bit deflated because all my imaginary rage was wasted. Happy for the discounted meals but disappointed that I hadn’t been right about this kid left me flummoxed. Just because two senior citizens are purchasing Kids Meals doesn’t mean we’re stealing; it just means we’re living on a fixed income and being financially responsible. Maybe my ever-so-slight dishonesty comes with the price of having to be waited on by this guy. Whatever the rationale, I enjoyed my burger and fries and my tiny child-size soft drink.
Then Counter Guy approached the table next to us where a young woman with Down Syndrome was struggling with getting the lid and straw secured on her soft drink. I recognized her as the person who wipes the tables and mops the floors there and her shift had apparently just ended. She often seems to be neglected and dismissed by the other staff members. But this guy helped her with her drink and inquired about her ride home. He then asked her what kind of car her mom drove, and when he spotted the car in the parking lot, he walked her out to the car and took the time to speak with her mother. He afforded her such care and compassion.
Now my meal was served with a slice of humble pie. God forgive me!
I had been so quick to judge, and I was so wrong. Because of his appearance and manner, I had pre-judged Counter Guy. With more than a little trepidation, I returned to the counter and told that young man that I had witnessed his kindness. I let him know how touching it was and thanked him for reminding me to be kinder. I might have embarrassed him, but he smiled and said, “I just like to be nice to people, and treat them with dignity and respect”.
Dignity. Respect. It’s never too late to learn.
Peace,
Denis
Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you. Matthew 7:1-2
It turns out that as she was feeding their bodies, they were feeding her soul. She spent most days chopping potatoes, carrots, onions, or whatever was donated. She made soups or stews to feed the families. The first day she was making fruit salad and serving it in tiny Dixie cups. One of the regular volunteers told her that she was filling the cups too full and there wouldn’t be enough for everyone. It brought her to tears as these people were starving and she was only able to serve a very small portion. When she cried, the other volunteer also cried. Deb says they held on to one another for the longest time and sobbed. She also tells me that because they served several hundred people each day they would nearly run out of water, bread, vegetables or fruit, but then there would be a knock at the door and whatever was needed would appear – truly God’s blessings.
I had a driver who was from India and we spoke about Indian food that I have eaten and loved but he laughed out loud every time I spoke and nothing I said was truly funny. Maybe it was the way I pronounced chicken tikka masala (I’ll never know). We laughed and laughed!
Think about a favorite memory. Was it summer or winter? Spring or fall? That moment will never return but that season will. I’ve been told that we are creatures of habit, but I am also a creature of adventure. I need the security of the familiar, but I long for new experiences. I think that having seasons, those repetitions, those traditions, gives me an advantage while I summit the mountains; while I swim the oceans; while I explore the unknown. My life changes but soon it will be spring again and I will return to a familiar place.
I’ve been hording all the goodness in my life. Keeping it all to myself. Honestly I feel privileged because, in all this chaos, I have more happiness in my life than most others. I suppose I have been selfish. While grateful for my blessings, I often dismiss them as just a part of my good life. I sometimes forget how much I have been given. How truly blessed I am. I have a spouse that loves me and stands beside me through thick and thin. I have children and grandchildren who fill my heart with love beyond measure. And I have friends who walk this journey with me every day and carry me when I can’t go on.
Journeying & Journaling 