My family was eating at a Dairy Queen, trying to have a conversation over dinner as we planned upcoming Christmas activities, while noise filled the restaurant.
Most of the sound emerged from the far corner booth near the restrooms. A group of teenagers was wedged in as if trying to set a record for the number of boys and girls in one booth. They were having a grand time. The young people were not causing any trouble, but they were loud and boisterous.
Amidst the clamor, a homeless man quietly entered the Dairy Queen. Outside, his two scraggly-looking dogs peered in the window from the chilly December evening, pacing and wondering what their master might bring them. But this evening, it appeared they would receive nothing. He was only ordering a cup of coffee to warm himself from the cold.
Slowly shuffling from the counter with his coffee, the man took a seat at a table near the door. Around him was a worn coat that couldn’t match the demands of the temperature. His shoes were barely holding up. His countenance showed that he had seen too many hard years. He was the kind of man to whom your eyes were drawn, but you didn’t want to look out of politeness. He seemingly would’ve been happy if you hadn’t noticed him at all.
Soon, it was time for the teenaged party to move on. The crowd pried itself out of the booth and streamed toward the door.
At the same time, the homeless man had risen to head outside as well. The teenagers swarmed past him. Their energy was almost cartoonish; it seemed like the homeless man might be spun like a revolving door if he hadn’t paused and rooted himself in place, staring wonderingly. The young people laughingly went past, hardly noticing him, and barged into the dark.
After they left, the man gathered himself again and began easing slowly toward the door. Just then, one of the teenaged boys swung the door open again and marched up to the man.
Extending one hand to grab the man’s arm and shaking hands with the other, the boy exclaimed, “Merry Christmas, sir!”
The man began to say the same, but stopped and looked down at his hand. The teenager had slipped him cash in the handshake. The homeless man began to protest, but the boy pulled away and waved. “Merry Christmas, sir!” he said again, then vanished into the night.
For a moment, the homeless man could only look down at his hand and out the glass door, back and forth, speechless. Finally, he turned and shuffled back to the counter. This time, he ordered a meal to go with his second cup of coffee.
In our seven-day faith practice, we can't be kind unless we have an awareness of those around us. The teenager who helped the man noticed him, then decided to act.
How can we be more alert to be kind, addressing the needs of others around us as we scurry around in our holiday preparations and beyond?
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