Open All Night

Growing up, when asked if a business or restaurant operated around the clock, we would say, “It’s open all night.”

As the plane touched down at Detroit Metro, tiredness was replaced with a sense of accomplishment. Cindi and I had just completed our first trip to the United Kingdom. A little over two weeks prior, we were landing at Heathrow Airport in London, snaking through customs, and catching a bus to our destination of Bournemouth, an ocean city on the south end of England. We traveled there to attend and celebrate our son Christian’s graduation from Arts University. We met so many wonderful characters, artists, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, and yes, even a true English gentleman. My mind was racing all the way back, trying to process all we had seen and heard, even as we climbed into the car.

For now, it was good to be back home.

Kelly picked us up, fresh from his over two weeks of being the man of the house. This included a leaky bathroom faucet, the refrigerator breaking down, overseeing the repairs and late-night texts to me in London (“you awake?”). It was late Friday night, and we had the weekend to rest and recuperate.

However, the next morning we looked through the near empty fridge, barren from the breakdown, and decided as tired as we were to make a grocery run, but not just any grocery run, COSTCO! Yes, we certainly were back. No mid-morning stock trip is complete without stopping for lunch, and Kelly knew it. So, after Costco, we agreed on a familiar chain breakfast restaurant. Now, my past experiences with this “place” were hit or miss, related to the service and food. Today was no exception, although the fact that I was dealing with jet lag was not helping. I was annoyed.

We had our meal, the food was ok, and the server, well, was not having the best of days. As I approached the register to pay the bill wondering when I would ever learn, I noticed that directly ahead of me was a young restaurant employee, maybe 19 or 20 years of age. When I asked if she was in line, she responded that she was on break and paying for her lunch. What? Huh? She worked there and had to pay for her own lunch? I looked at the ticket in her hand, it was for $3.84. Man, after all the hit and miss experiences, now I’ve seen it all. This place is going to make this young girl who works here, pay for her own lunch.

I was, well, annoyed.

I smiled and told her to “just give me the bill.” By this time, I was ahead of her, standing at the register. The attendant, who must have overheard our conversation, told me that I could pay for our meal, about $33.00 and the $3.84 together. Before completing the transaction, the young lady told me to wait so that she could apply her discount. I cashed out, she thanked me, and I made my way out of the establishment still thinking of the $3.84.

Then it hit me.

Cindi as usual was a step ahead, asking me if I knew what had just happened. I assumed the discount was applied to the $3.84, when in fact it was taken against the combined bills. This young girl in affect paid for a third of our meal.

Suddenly, I wasn’t tired or annoyed.

I remember clearly my immediate thought was not, I gave and got something in return. But that the God within the thunder and lighting, beautiful sunsets, and powerful and majestic sunrises, is just as creative and present in “hit or miss” restaurants, casual and mundane moments and a thousand other circumstances, places, and people that we ignore and take for granted. He does not ignore or take them for granted.

“The opportunities around us may not be as dramatic, but if we are aware, we will see them…These little acts of service don’t take much time or money, but they demonstrate Jesus’ heart and lifestyle of service. And the thing is, you won’t know about them unless you are involved and present in the lives of those around you.” Rooted (Week 7, Day 4, A Lifestyle of Service)

Living Stones.

24 hours, open all night.