Money Well Spent

Dang, I sighed dramatically under my breath as I stood outside the Hotel Pacific in the early morning darkness.  I had been standing outside on the tiled front steps in the cool morning air since 4:45 am.  The private driver who would be taking me to the airport for my flight to Alice Springs was scheduled to pick me up around 5.  In my rush to shower, dress, and pack, I had completely forgotten to grab my two bottles of water and packages of cookies that I had placed in the small refrigerator in my room the night before.  I didn’t even think about the water and snacks until I was already standing outside and a large, white van was coming up the long, curved driveway towards me.  I told myself it wasn’t a big deal, but I had been carefully watching my cash ever since I had arrived in Australia a week ago.  I still had ten days left on this adventure and I didn’t want to run out of money.  Although most places accepted credit cards, I needed to use cash to buy simple things like drinks and snacks.  I also needed tip money to offer to all of the various employees at different establishments to thank them for their wonderful service.

As far as cash was concerned, I had followed the advice of my travel agent.  When I had asked Ken how much money I should bring with me to Australia, he had suggested, “Just take about a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars with you for drinks and tips, and then charge everything else.”  His reasoning was very valid.  According to Ken, people make the mistake of exchanging hundreds of dollars and don’t realize the high fees they have to pay.  If people don’t use all of the money in Australia, they have to pay another fee to change the cash back to American dollars.  Plus, Ken told me that a lot of people call the travel agency to complain that they still have Australian dollars when they return to America, and the travelers usually get upset when the agency can’t do anything to help them get the full value of their money.  “Besides,” Ken had continued, “cash can be lost or stolen, and it’s gone.  Your credit cards can be easily canceled and replaced.”

Ken’s financial recommendation had made perfectly good sense to me, so I decided to exchange just 160 American dollars for Australian cash at the Los Angeles airport before I caught my flight to Brisbane.  At the time, I had felt secure about following Ken’s advice but now going into the second week of my expedition, I wasn’t as confident.  I really felt that I had to watch every dollar (American and Australian) for the rest of my journey.  So leaving behind the bottles of water at 2 dollars each and packages of cookies for 3 dollars each seemed like a really big deal to me.

Everyone in Cairnes, Australia, had been so incredibly sweet and friendly that I was sure the hotel staff would let me back into my room if I told them that I had forgotten something.  But now, it was too late.  The driver had stopped the van directly in front of me and was climbing out from behind the wheel.  As the man walked over to me, I whispered a good morning and was surprised to receive only a rushed and hushed grunt in reply.  I decided not to say anything more as I settled into the back seat and fastened my seat belt.  The driver quickly stowed my luggage into the back compartment of the van, and effectively slammed the door before walking around to the driver’s seat and climbing in behind the wheel.  He silently started the engine and drove away from the hotel.

As the man maneuvered the van onto the highway, I quickly reached into my purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill.  I wanted to make sure I was ready to tip the driver as soon as we arrived at the airport.  I knew it was customary to tip my private drivers but I had made an embarrassingly bad mistake on my first day in Australia.  On August 26^th, I had arrived in Brisbane, which was my first stop in Australia before I traveled onto Cairnes, Alice Springs, and Sydney.  I felt like I was in a movie as I walked off the plane, and there was my driver holding up an ipad with my name flashing across the screen.  That driver had been incredibly polite and informative as he drove me around the city to the Hotel Meridian.  As we wove in and out of traffic, the man told me about his trips to America and pointed out all of the amazing Brisbane sites.  The drive was enjoyable and comfortable until we arrived at the hotel.  The driver had stopped the car, opened my door, and then pulled my suitcase out of the trunk.  Then he stood on the sidewalk with me for a few minutes as he pointed out the different shops and restaurants that were located close to the hotel.  It suddenly dawned on me that he was waiting for a tip, but I had one small problem.  I had received only 20-dollar bills when I exchanged money in LA and then had walked right off the plane and into the waiting car with my driver when I had arrived in Brisbane.  I had no available change on me to tip the driver and I didn’t think it was polite to ask for money back on a tip.  So, I just awkwardly stood on the sidewalk outside the Hotel Meridian and responded with “Wow,” and “That’s great” as my private driver kindly continued to act as my personal tour guide, too.  Finally, he must have realized that there was no tip forthcoming and yet he continued to behave kindly towards me.  He shook my hand and wished me a great trip while I profusely thanked him for his kindness…but I still felt terrible!  The man had been so nice to me, and I had stiffed him on a tip.  I swore then that I would never allow that situation to happen again.  I told myself that I would kindly give to the drivers and all of the people who were helping to make my Australian journey a once in a lifetime experience.

And now, here I was on my way to the airport for my early morning flight contemplating whether I should give my current driver any money.  I didn’t want to be inconsiderate and yet at the same time, the man was somewhat rude as he continued to drive in silence and blatantly ignored me.  Of course, I wasn’t upset about the initial service.  The man had only been hired by my travel agent to get me to the airport and that was exactly what he was doing.  I was grateful for his assistance, so he did deserve the tip in that regard.  However, I just wasn’t sure at this point how to approach the man.  He wasn’t friendly.  He really didn’t seem to want anything to do with me.  Would it be awkward for both of us if I tried to give him a tip?  I had kept the five-dollar bill gripped in my hand as I contemplated the issue on the drive to the airport.  I had finally made up my mind that when we arrived at our destination, I would say a polite thank you, but not push the issue any further.

I was just about to shove the money back into my overstuffed bag when the van suddenly came to an abrupt stop.  I leaned forward and gazed out the large, clean window.  After a tense journey, we had arrived at the domestic flight terminal of the Cairnes airport.  The driver exited the vehicle, walked around the side of the van, and swung open the door by my seat.  Then, as I unhooked my seat belt and climbed out, the driver walked around to the back of the van, and retrieved my luggage for me.  He walked towards me and placed the suitcase down by my feet.  I said, “Thank you” as the driver nodded his head but didn’t say a word.

And then, before I realized what was happening, and without thought, I raised my right arm and held out my hand.  And suddenly the man’s hand was brushing against mine as I pushed the five-dollar bill towards him.  I hadn’t planned to do this, but for some reason, in the moment, I felt a sudden need and urgency to give him the tip.

Then, the driver stared directly into my eyes as he held onto the cash and, by chance, my hand as well.  I suddenly felt as if, in the pale darkness, I could clearly see him.  He was an older man, probably in his mid-60s.  He was very tall and so thin that his crisp, white, button-down shirt and black slacks seemed too big for his slight build.  The driver had a skinny, white mustache that lined his upper lip.  Both of his hands suddenly wrapped around my fingers as I stared into his eyes and noticed the deep, sad lines that were etched into the rough skin of his face.  I noticed the thin, gray wisp of hair that rested across his forehead.  Then I suddenly saw into this man’s soul as he said to me in the softest of voices, “Oh, no, you don’t really need to do this.”

“No, please,” I answered, “it’s okay.  Please, take it.  I want you to have it.”

And suddenly, as the day was slowly beginning to brighten with the sunrise, I could see the tears coming into the man’s eyes as he whispered to me, “Are you sure?  Are you sure you want to give this to me?”

And of that moment, I was absolutely positive about the situation.  “Yes,” I honestly told him, “I really want you to have the money.”

“Thank you,” he whispered as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze and tears started to careen in crooked lines down his face, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” I answered.  “Thank you for the ride.”

He smiled at me then as he wished me a good flight.  He let go of my hand and I watched as he walked around the van and got back into the driver’s seat.  As he drove away from the curb, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked into the terminal with my mind and heart full of gratitude.  I was so thankful to be in Australia.  I was so happy to be going to see Ayer’s Rock.  I was so grateful to the driver who got me to the airport on time.  And I was so thankful that I had followed my heart and gave the man the five dollars.  I don’t really know what had prompted me to offer the tip to the driver.  I usually tended to shy away from people who are difficult or intimidating.  But there was something about this man that even in his quiet irritation was good and kind.

I thought of the way the man had held my hand with tears gleaming in his eyes as he accepted such a small, simple token of my gratitude.  It was five dollars…just five dollars…and yet it had made such a big difference to another person.  For some reason, that small gesture had completely changed the man’s attitude.  I guess it is true that no one ever knows the private battles other people are facing.  We never really know what another person is going through.  It’s sad sometimes that we just always respond to the current moment.  We get angry if we think someone has been rude to us.  We forget that sometimes people are rude because they have just lost a job or a loved one; maybe they haven’t had a chance to sleep, or eat, or they haven’t been feeling well.  Our minds sometimes don’t always stretch to think about what another person is going through.  If we all could just touch one person in some small way when the opportunity arises, especially when we have the chance to offer hope to someone who may be suffering in some way we don’t understand, what a great world this would be.

This man was a good soul and maybe he was just having a bad morning.  That doesn’t make him a bad person.  In my mind, I know, my silent driver deserved to be treated with respect regardless of his initial attitude.  Hopefully, my simple gesture of gratitude had helped turn his day around.  It amazing how we have the power to affect each other in a good and blessed way just by being kind.

After checking in at the counter and receiving my boarding pass, I walked over to the food court to buy breakfast and some coffee.  I no longer worried about spending money.  I felt so blessed as I thought about the man and the five dollars I had given him.  As I sipped my coffee, I smiled.  That tip was the best five dollars I had ever spent.

 

 

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My Perfect Roses

Last Sunday, my thoughts were just as drab and boring as the world I had been walking through.  I felt trapped as I made my way down the main aisle of the backroom of my workplace.  I was surrounded on all sides by dull, concrete floors, light gray steel beams, and plain brown cardboard boxes.  But then just like in the Wizard of Oz when black and white scenes suddenly blossom into brilliant color, I noticed something crimson red shining just to my left side.  I turned around and gasped as I caught my breath.

“Oh, those are beautiful!”  I sighed as I came to a complete dreamlike stop.  I suddenly forgot why I had been in such a hurry as I focused on the long stem roses that were lying in a blue basket.  The black handle of the square basket was resting across Bernard’s left arm.

“Do you want a rose?” the assistant manager asked me.

“Really,” I smiled.  “I can have one?”

“Of course, you can,” he answered as he offered the basket out to me.  I thanked him profusely and grabbed the stem of a large blooming red rose.  I pulled the luscious flower from the basket and held it up to my face to breath in the delicious scent of the petals.  “Okay,” Bernard said after I had been completely intoxicated with the sweet aroma.  “You have to let me take your picture now.”

That’s when I noticed that Bernard was holding a digital camera in his opposite hand.  I’ve always been very uncomfortable in front of cameras.  So, now, I shook my head.  “No, thanks,” I told him.  “I’ll have to give you the rose back.”  I started to place the beautiful, perfect creation back into the basket.  Refusing the picture was actually a graceful way out for me because I had suddenly realized that the roses actually had a special purpose.  The flowers were for Mommas.  I had completely forgotten through the course of my busy workday that it was Mother’s Day.  I don’t have children of my own and my mother had passed on seven years ago.  So, of course, I don’t really have a reason or a right to celebrate Mother’s Day and, honestly, it is a holiday that makes me really sad.  I sighed wistfully as I placed the rose back into the basket.

“No, it’s okay,” Bernard told me.  “You can have a rose.  Go ahead and keep it…and I won’t force you to have your picture taken either.”

I just shook my head no and slowly began to back away.  I didn’t deserve the flower.  “Thank you, Bernard,” I told him.  “I do appreciate it but I’m not a mother.  I don’t have any children.  These roses should go to mothers today.

Bernard just laughed then and said, “It doesn’t matter.  You can have a rose, too, if it makes you happy.  Come on.  Take one.”  He held the basket out to me again.

I couldn’t stop smiling now as I grabbed hold of the stem of the flower I had just returned and pulled it back out of the basket.  “Thank you,” I told him.

“That’s fine,” Bernard answered.  “Just enjoy it.

And I did.  Holding the rose and running my fingers over the red, feather soft petals made my day a little brighter.  I was really missing my mother and the rose made me think of her.  I thought about the rose bush my mother had planted and carefully nurtured in the corner of our backyard when I was a child.  But then, thinking about my mother who had sacrificed so much for me, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.  I wondered if I had taken a rose away from a woman who was much more deserving than I could ever be.  Did I just steal a rose from one of the many gracious women who went through the pain of childbirth and suffered sleepless nights taking care of sick children?

Honestly, I would have loved to have been one of those women.  But certain life situations and health problems such as ovarian cysts and uterine tumors prevented me from feeling worthy of a rose.  But I also had to admit that the flower and Bernard’s kindness, the way he included me in this simple tribute, made me smile and brightened my day.

A week later, Sunday, May 20, 2017, I was back at work and having a rather bad day.  I kept repeating to myself New Age affirmations to help me make it through my work hours.  “A good or bad day is just my perception.”  “I can use my power of positive thinking to make this a better day.”  But nothing seemed to help.  I spent the day struggling with even the most minor tasks.  I just couldn’t seem to adjust to the stress of the day and my frustration was pushing me to the point of tears.

As I struggled to pull myself together that afternoon, I suddenly heard someone calling out to me.  I turned around to see  Charles standing behind me.  “Here, this is for you, Jamie,” he said as he held out his hand to me.  “Take this and hold onto it until your day becomes better.”  I stared down at the small, red rose resting in his palm, and my heart suddenly filled with hope and gratitude.  I was so touched by Charles’s sweet gesture.  “Thank you so much,” I answered.  “That’s so sweet of you.”   I reached out and took the rose from his hand.  As Charles walked away , I pinned the rose to my shirt and immediately began to feel much better.  What an amazing blessing that gift was!  And now, after all of the positive thinking I tried to force on myself, that simple rose made me feel so much better.

I thought now about both roses I had received over the last two Sundays and I realized something.  Though I regret not being a mother, though I am ashamed of myself for not handling my frustration better, people still cared about me.  I don’t have to be anything in particular or do anything special for people to think of me.  I had no reason to feel inadequate or ashamed or lacking in my life.  I don’t have to have a great job or a lot of money.  Instead, all I had to do was be kind and have a good heart and there will always be people to support and help me.

My coworker’s kindnesses reminded me of the love Jesus Christ holds for all of us.  He knows our regrets and our failings and yet He continues to love and support us anyway.  He continues to help us grow strong and beautiful and blossom into special spirits….just like my beautiful perfect roses.  I am so blessed!

Thank you so much, Bernard and Charles, for your kindness…and my roses!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Angels on Earth

The most amazing thing happened to me today.  No, I didn’t get engaged or win the lottery.  Something much better than that took place.  I left work at 3 pm and started to drive to the gym.  I really wasn’t feeling too well.  I had a terrible, throbbing headache that made me feel a little dizzy.  I think I was just feeling tired and overwhelmed, but, whatever the case, the headache convinced me that I probably needed to take a break.  So, instead of going directly to the gym like I normally do after work every day, I  decided to go to the local McDonalds, get a cup of tea, put my feet up, read my book, and allow myself at least a half hour of relaxation.

Fifteen minutes later, my plan had gone into effect.  I had a cool cup of iced tea on the table, my book opened in front of me, and my body slouched down in a booth at the back of the restaurant.  Thankfully, no one else was around.  It was quiet and peaceful and I was able to concentrate on my reading.  I felt my whole body relax as I started to take deep breaths.  I was beginning to feel a little better, but my head continued to pound.

I had only been hunkered down in the booth for about fifteen minutes when a group of young girls suddenly walked into my tiny private oasis   The four girls appeared to be about thirteen-years-old.  They were dressed in colorful tank tops and cotton shorts.  Each of the girls had her red or blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  Well-worn baseball caps were perched on the top of their heads.

Of course, being young kids, they were prone to running, yelling, and laughing hysterically over nothing at all.  The girls giggled innocently whenever boys’ names were mentioned and they shrieked with excitement as they pushed and tickled each other.  It was a little difficult to tune the girls out.  They were sitting in a large booth directly across the aisle from me.  Surprisingly, though, all of the noise didn’t bother me.  I guess I was so relaxed that the clamor didn’t really disturb me.

But instead of staying focused on my book, my mind drifted back to something that had happened a few months ago.  Again, I had been relaxing with my book at McDonald’s when two young boys came into the restaurant.  The boys were loud!  They screamed and yelled and cursed each other rudely.  I had to literally bite my tongue not to respond.  I was especially irritated when one of the boys kept purposely sliding across the floor making a loud screech sound that sent my nerves jangling.  I tried to overlook it but the “tennis-shoe screeching” was impossible to ignore.  I started to pack up my books and get ready to leave even though I had only been at the restaurant for twenty minutes.  But suddenly I came to a sliding stop before I had scooched all the way off the bench of the booth.  I was brought to stunned silence as one of the  boys began to sing.  His voice was deep and rich and absolutely beautiful as he sang the words to a gospel hymn.  I don’t know what had inspired the boy to start singing out loud, but I found myself smiling and taking long deep breaths.  Then I settled back into the booth, opened my book again and completely relaxed as the boy continued to sing.  Once he finished the song, he smiled brilliantly and the two boys left the restaurant.  They  left me in peace and feeling calmer and more inspired than I had been a few minutes before.

So now, I took a deep breath as the young girls laughed and played around me.  Suddenly, one of the girls got up from the table and walked towards me.  I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she approached my booth.  I started to panic for a moment as I began to wonder how much cash I had on me.  I thought at first she was going to ask me for money or that she and her friends were selling Girl Scout cookies and wanted me to buy a box.  I couldn’t think of any other reason why this young girl would suddenly be standing directly in front of me.  I remained sitting in the booth as the girl stared down at me.  I slowly pulled my eyes away from my book and looked up at her.  Then the girl smiled brightly at me and said, “Hi.  How are you feeling today?  Are you having a good afternoon?”

“Yes,” I said, shocked by her politeness.  “I’m having a really good afternoon.

“Good,” the girl answered, “I just wanted to check.”  And then she turned and walked away.

“Thank you,” I called after her.  I was completely touched by the girl’s kind gesture.  “That was so sweet of you.”

The girl just turned and smiled at me before joining her friends at the table where the girls again behaved exactly like thirteen-year-olds normally do.  I continued though to wonder at the girl’s behavior.  Why would a young girl out with her friends even bother with an “old” woman like me?  I had just been sitting there reading my book.  I couldn’t imagine what had ever inspired the girl to talk to me.  But it didn’t really matter.  My headache was gone!  And I couldn’t stop smiling as I turned my attention back to my book and sipped my iced tea.

Twenty minutes later, I decided I was ready to go to the gym.  I got up from my table and walked over to trashcan which was next to the young girls’ table.  “Have a good afternoon,” I said to them as I threw away my cup.  “Bye!  Bye!” the girls started screaming in their excited, high-pitched voices.  I turned around and walked across the restaurant to the door.  I stepped outside and thought about those young girls as I walked to my car.  I said a silent prayer that God would bless and keep the girls safe.  I thought about what the future held for those girls who probably didn’t know yet that they were experiencing some of the best moments of their lives right now.  They were young and silly and happy…and that’s what I hoped life continued to offer to them.

I got in my car, started it up, and backed out of my parking space.  I drove towards the exit but came to a sudden stop when I saw the young girls skipping across the parking lot.  I stopped to let them safely walk to the grassy area on the other side of the lot.  Suddenly, one of the girls looked at me and smiled.  She shouted “Bye” at me as she enthusiastically waved her hand towards me.  This movement got the attention of the other girls as they all now excitedly waved to me and called out good-byes.  I waved back as tears stung my eyes.  Such beautiful young girls…I prayed once more for their protection as they walked across the grass towards the houses on the other side of the street.

So, see, something wonderful happened to me today.  Four young girls were kind to this “old” woman and it made my head and my heart feel so much better.  This is another moment in my life that I will hold on to and bury like treasure deep inside my soul.  For even though I have had so many momentous occasions in my life, it is these random acts of kindness that create my most precious memories.  And the fact that this moment was created by thirteen-year-old girls gives me great hope that the world will continue to experience kindness in the midst of so much chaos.  There are angels still on this earth…I meet four giggly, happy,  silly  ones today!

Memorable Moments

When I started writing my blog last year, I had actually planned to write a travel journal.  I thought I would be writing about my expeditions around America, my travels overseas, and my day trip excursions.  However, over the past year, my blog had morphed into something entirely different.  I am writing instead about out-of-the-blue experiences that happened to me throughout my ordinary days.  Instead of writing about traveling, I am writing about everyday life lessons.  I am recording the sudden insights and moments of joy that occurred during the quiet moments of my life.  So instead of writing about my recent trip to Vegas, here again is a surprising moment that occurred in my life last week.

I had just finished instructing my morning class at 11:30 am on Thursday, May 28, 2015.  I was happy it was Thursday.  This week was the first week of a new term and it had been exhausting.  I decided that I needed to get off campus for a while and decompress before my next class began.

I just went across the street to a small restaurant.  It wasn’t until I had received my glass of unsweetened iced tea and immersed myself in the pages of the latest novel I was reading that I finally began to breathe and relax.  I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath until this moment.  Yes, the week had been very stressful and I’m afraid my appearance had put my exhaustion on display.  I was dressed in a pair of old black slacks, a red sleeveless shirt, and a pair of blue flip-flops.  I wore very light makeup and my large purple plastic framed glasses tilted sideways across the bridge of my nose.  I had been too exhausted all week to put contact lenses into my eyes.  I knew my hair had been tossed around by the wind when I left campus just a few minutes earlier but I didn’t stop to brush it again.  The sad thing was that I just felt too exhausted to care.  (Hey, I’m not writing a fashion blog for good reason!)

It felt good to relax especially since I would not be heading back home until 10:30 pm when my night classes were over.  I decided to take full advantage of this moment.  I was just going to sip my tea, read my book, and not worry about anything.

A few moments later, however, a movement at the front of the restaurant caught my attention and I glanced up over the top of my book.  I watched as a very small, adorable, elderly woman entered the restaurant.  The woman was dressed as eccentrically as I was.  She wore a pair of old jeans, a purple long-sleeved knit shirt, and a pink puffy vest even though the end of May temperature outside was approaching 100 degrees.  A little, beige, knit cap covered her short, dark, curly hair.

I know it’s not polite to stare but I watched as she shuffled slowly up to the front register and placed her lunch order.  Then the woman slowly turned around and ambled over to a table in the back right hand corner of the room.  I was a little concerned about the elderly woman.  She had a small hump at the top of her back that caused her head to hang a little lower than her shoulders.  Her neck was slightly bent in order to keep her eyes up.  Her legs seemed to be a little wobbly as she moved slowly between the tables to the booth.

I watched her for a moment as she settled into her seat.  When the clerks called out the number of her food order, I started to stand up, but relaxed back down in my seat when one of the workers left the counter and carried the tray of food over to the woman’s table.  The elderly woman, however, refused to be helpless.  As the clerk placed the tray on the table and walked away, the elderly woman stood up and shuffled over to the condiment counter.  I know that I shouldn’t have been staring, but the gentle rocking motions of her gait was like an intriguing dance, a shamble of endurance and grace.  As the woman picked up some napkins and hot sauce and started walking back to her table, I turned my attention back to my book.  I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable because I had been watching her.

I read just a few words before I was distracted.  A slight movement caught my attention.  I looked up to find the elderly woman now standing beside my table.  I smiled up at her…and then nearly fell out of my chair!

The woman looked at me and said, “You are so pretty!”

I stared at her with my mouth hanging open in surprise.  “Th-th-thank you,” I stuttered.  I was shocked.  I didn’t know what to say.  I took a breath and stated, “So are you,” for I was stunned by the woman’s incredibly deep blue eyes and smooth shiny skin.

The woman waved her hand at me before saying, “No, not me.  But you are really pretty.  Your skin is so smooth…”

Again, I could only stammer a “th-th-thank you” before the woman continued.  “I am 91-years-old,” she stated.  Ninety-one?!?  This woman with the bright blue eyes, treating herself out to lunch all alone, was 91-years-old?!  Before I could make any comment, the woman continued, “I am 91.  At my age, I have seen many beautiful things.  I know beauty…and you, my dear, are beautiful!”

And with that finally pronouncement, the woman turned away from me and ambled back to her table again.  Her head seemed to be held up a little higher and her gait suddenly seemed to be a lot lighter as she moved away from me with an amazing amount of dignity and elegance.

I tried to turn my attention back to my book after this encounter but I couldn’t concentrate.  I suddenly felt myself changed by this moment and I was too excited to sit still.  I got up from my table and refilled my tea cup.  Then, as I walked towards the exit, I detoured over to the woman’s table.  I thanked her again for her compliments and wished her a great day.

“Oh, you, too, my dear,” she answered as her right hand waved joyfully.

I left the restaurant and walked over to my car.  I sat for a few minutes and contemplated what had just happened and the connection I felt to this elderly woman.  I glanced around the parking lot for a moment wondering where the woman came from.  Did she drive herself to the restaurant at 91 years of age? How amazing! I knew then that God had once again sent another person into my life to bless me.

I know that this moment may not mean anything to anyone else.  I know it’s not adventurous or overly interesting.  However, I know that these out-of-the-blue moments, these sudden connections with kind strangers are the elements that gives meaning to my life.  I know that I will always remember the times I’ve driven cross-country or traveled overseas.  But will I always remember random acts of kindness?  I write about these events because random these are the moments I really hope to remember.  I know that random acts of kindness are the moments that make my life extraordinary!

Coffee Talk

Last Monday, I received a phone call from a close friend of mine.  “I really need to talk,” she had said.  “Can we get together this morning?”

I eagerly agreed.  I didn’t have anything planned and I thought it would be fun to spend the morning talking with a friend over a cup of coffee.  We agreed to meet at 10:00 pm at a local McDonald’s.

I got to the restaurant about half an hour early but that was okay.  I had my books with me and would just relax and read for a while until my friend arrived.  I was really surprised, though, when I walked into McDonald’s.  The place was packed.  Every table was taken and a line of people waiting to order stretched across the lobby.  Wow!  Why was the place so busy this morning?  As I looked around at all of the people, it suddenly dawned on me.  Coachella Fest!  All of these people were on their way home from the big music festival that had taken place last weekend in Indio, California.  Instead of being aggravated as I took my place in line, I found myself smiling.  I am a notorious people-watcher.  I loved seeing all of the young, excited, dusty, dirty, colorful, beautiful people that were gathered all around me.  It was difficult not to get caught up in their excitement and peaceful happy exhaustion.

It took me a few minutes before I was finally able to get my hot cup of coffee.  HHhhhmmm….now to find an empty table.  Just then, a table right up front by the counter became available and I ran over to claim it.  I sat down and glanced around.  I wasn’t really happy at this table.  It was too close to the front where people were walking back and forth to the counter.  In between reading pages of my book, I kept glancing around for other open tables.  Oh, another table just became available closer to the back of the restaurant.  I grabbed my coffee cup and books and raced over to now claim this table as my own.  I sat my books on the table and then sat down.  Okay, this was better but I was in the center of the room, which usually makes me a little uncomfortable.  Over the pages of my book, I kept my eyes focused on the booths around the sides of the room.

Just then a young woman walked by me.  She was about 20 years old with pretty, waist-length long, dark hair.  Black plastic glasses were perched on her small nose.  She was dressed in respectable khaki shorts and a black Coachella Fest T-shirt.  The woman was carrying a tray of food over to a table beside the large picture windows.

“Excuse me,” I heard her say to the elderly woman who was already sitting there.  The older woman had been quietly reading the newspaper and sipping from a coffee cup.  “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

The elderly woman glanced up from her paper for a moment and stared at the girl over her silver wire-framed glasses.  The girl then explained.  “All the other tables are taken.  I have nowhere to sit.  Do you mind if I share your table so I can eat?”

The elderly woman now smiled at her and started to stack up the scattered sections of the newspaper that had been strewn across the table.  “Oh, that’s fine,” she answered.  “Please, sit down.”

The young woman said a pleasant “Thank you” and took a seat as the elderly woman turned her attention back to her newspaper.  They were silent for a moment and then the older woman began to gather the pieces of the newspaper again.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the young woman responded.  “Am I in your way?”

“Oh, no, no,” the older woman answered.  “I was afraid I was in your way.”

“No, you weren’t,” the girl responded before she giggled.  Suddenly, the two strangers stared at each other and then started to talk like old friends.  I turned my attention back to my book but I could hear a few scattered comments about Coachella Fest and visiting Palm Springs.  I felt tears burn my eyes as I thought of the two women and wondered why both of them had been alone in a restaurant filled with groups of friends and family members.  Strange that they had found each other and seemed to make a peaceful connection.

After a few minutes, the elderly woman stood up from the table and said good-bye to her momentary companion.  The young girl smiled and said a shy good-bye as her “friend” walked across the restaurant and out the front door.

Both women had been so kind to each other, I felt particular touched that I had witnessed this interaction.  Suddenly, the young woman stood up and walked passed my table on her way to the soda fountain.  After refilling her cup, she started to walk back to her table…

And that’s when I made my mistake.

As the young woman passed by my table, I called out to her.  “Excuse me,” I said, “I know it’s none of my business, but I thought you were very sweet to that woman at your table.  You were very kind.”

The young woman started at me for a moment as if she didn’t quite understand my words.  Her face didn’t register any expression.  Then she just mumbled “thank you” and returned to her table.  Man, I’m an idiot!  Why did I say anything to her?  It was not my place to say anything, and, in fact, I think I may have embarrassed the young woman.   She didn’t expect any praise for her behavior.  In fact, she didn’t need my comments at all.  I should have kept them to myself.  Without comment, without praise, without pretension, without congratulations…that young woman is just who she is…and who she is beautiful…but she doesn’t need me to tell her.

A few minutes later, my friend arrived.  She walked over to me and we hugged each other warmly.  As she sat down, I felt blessed to share my table with someone.  I said a silent prayer of thank you to God for blessing me with so many people who came into my life that day for either just a brief moment or long enough to enjoy a hot cup of coffee with me.