"A Slice of Life"

(Thinking of All Saint's Day and realizing that there are saints among us ... even sitting at the table beside of me in an empty dining room!)

Tuesday lunches for me are different from all other days. I have learned to eat lunch by myself at the neighborhood cafeteria (not at all easy for me to do). It has become a wonderful routine actually. Tuesdays, I hope to find grilled salmon that is OK ('OK' as in great for an average neighborhood restaurant but not the same as a fine-dining restaurant) and chopped slaw that is a free side item (you can’t beat ‘free’). Sweet iced tea is a must, of course. I am usually at this cafeteria minutes after it opens for lunch so 'my' booth next to the far wall is always waiting for me. My Kindle e-reader comes out of my pocketbook and I have a glorious 45 minutes of quiet ... curled up in the corner of the booth ... just me, my book and a decent lunch.

This past Tuesday was much like all other Tuesdays. I held the door open for three men who had just climbed out of their work truck. They startled me with their polite and very Southern "Thank you, ma'am." As we moved through the cafeteria line together, the server asked one of the men a question that he didn't quite understand. "Do you want your roast beef au jus, Sweetie?" His reply was, "What?" She asked the question once more ... again ending with "Sweetie." Again he ask, "What?" Finally, she pointed to the roast beef juice and said, "That!" No, he didn't want any. She didn't make fun of him and he wasn't embarrassed. Both seemed to be good responses.

I found my way to 'my' booth and settled into the corner to read. The three men emptied their trays at the table beside of me. Now WHY did they do that? The entire dining room was empty. They could have chosen any place other than THAT table. They were too close to my little sanctuary to suit me! They were messing with my Tuesday lunch. My initial thoughts were that these three men would become loud in their talking, perhaps even laughing (how dare they? hehehe) and distract me as I tried to read.

They DID distract me. They were quiet in their conversations. They spoke sweetly and respectfully to the elderly lady who came to the table to fill their glasses of iced tea. They talked among themselves of the older man they had helped with much-needed home repairs. One told the others of his love for his wife and that opened the conversation for the other two men to tell of their love for their own wives. The conversations moved to their great dogs. I heard one say, "He's the best dog I have ever had." Another said, "When I put my ladder up against a house, he tries to climb up with me." The third admitted that he couldn't think of ever being without his dog. I smiled as I listened to three men speaking of love for both their wives and dogs. Frankly, I don't think that the wives or dogs would be offended at being a part of the same conversation.

One shared the 'au jus' incident with the others and giggled at himself for not knowing what it meant. The others didn't laugh at him but with him. The elderly woman, her shoulders bent low, stopped by the table once more to refill their iced tea. One of the men took a moment to chat with her ... to ask “How is life treating you?” She was honest and told him. She is struggling in many ways. They listened carefully and with compassion.

The men left before I finished my lunch but not before having one last conversation among themselves. "Why don't we leave her a good tip." As I passed by the empty table, I noticed that they had left $20 on the table for her. Oh, why did I have to go back to work? I wish I could have stayed in 'my' booth to watch as she found the generous tip.

As I think back on past Tuesdays when people have sat too close to me in an empty dining room, I am beginning to see little slices of life ... sacred moments. Two Tuesdays ago, there was a man who struggled to speak. There was not one word that I understood yet his wife clung to every word of his. Another Tuesday, there were two people who had come back home to gather with family for a funeral. Yet another Tuesday, two little girls, a mother and a grandmother met for lunch. No one from that table was overlooked in their conversation. Everyone's thoughts and stories were important. Still another Tuesday, a grandfather treated his young granddaughter to lunch. She was filled with words. He stopped her excitement only to have a blessing, holding her hands as he prayed.

Each Tuesday lunch has brought with it a different slice of life ... a sacred moment. I will still seek out 'my' booth but hope for such blessed moments in the Tuesdays to come ... hope that a saint or two might sit so close to me that I might hear their conversations.

anna