The Brethren are at home.
What does this mean? I call my boys “The Brethren” and it cracks me up. I am thankful for this time we have together with them attending school every second day. It’s been a nice transition back to school and routines… (barf) or in the words of Cousin Laura “rhythm.” That aligns better with me.
They’ve introduced a lovely song about Chicken Nuggets. Their humour, especially Zach’s, is a lot like mine. I’ve always said I have a 12 year boy soul. (He’s maturing at his ripe old age of 15. You can find the Chicken Nugget song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8h3JrWRM7o
Have you ever read any of the “If you give a pig a pancake” books? https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/826585.If_You_Give_a_Pig_a_Pancake
Essentially these books teach us that one thing leads to another. Kinda like this Chicken Nugget song had me thinking about my bro and when we were little he would order nuggets at fast food places. WHICH then lead me to remember an amazing experience I had at.. .wait for it… Wendy’s. As in Wendy’s restaurant.
It was a dark and snowy night.
Picture it, Winnipeg. Cold. Winter. Suppertime. I had my three children with me who had reached about a 10 on their hangry meters. I decided to stop somewhere we had never been before, Wendy’s. The wind whipped as I hurried the babies out the van and across the slippery snowy parking lot with heads down and hoods up. Then out of nowhere something caught my eye. An angelic figure bathed in light! Was I experiencing a paranormal visitation?
Turns out it was an Wendy’s employee ushering us in. “Come and get these little ones of the cold” she said in a merry voice, full of wisdom, while holding the door open for us. Once my glasses started to defrost I noticed that she was an older lady with such kindness in her eyes. I couldn’t have been more thankful for that simple act of holding the door open for my wee family.
As I stood staring at the unfamiliar menu board, the guy behind the counter started making suggestions on how to ‘bundle’ my meals to get what we wanted in a less expensive way. I was feeling more at ease and again grateful for the helpfulness of the staff. I turned away to help one of my children with their coats and looked up to see the older lady – you know the angelic figure in the light- carrying my loaded tray of drinks to a table for us. “Am I in a dream?” I wondered? Next thing I knew my children were being offered balloons and another staff member brought over our meals. What service!
Was I the only one in the restaurant? No. But to me it felt like I was. If you break down the experience, did they really do anything over and above? No. Not really. Facts: Someone held the door. Someone made menu suggestions. Someone brought my food and drinks to the table. Someone gave my kids each a balloon on a stick. Wow! Right?! Were any of those really big deals? No. But they were to me. I felt cared for. I felt counted. I felt special.
I’m so thankful for that dark and snowy night on St. James Street in Winnipeg for teaching me that small moments really do make a difference.
Several years later I found myself reflecting on this experience. One of my favourite questions to ask myself is “Is it possible…” With this experience in mind I asked: Is it possible that the lady who held the door open just happened to be near the door sweeping out the foyer? Yes. That’s possible. Is it possible that the gentleman behind the counter saw a lady with frantic children fussing about being hungry and now too hot with their winter gear on and decided to hurry her along by making menu suggestions? Yes. That is also possible. Is it that unusual for a restaurant to carry drinks to the table or to bring the food out when it is a busy time? No. That’s not unusual. It is totally possible. Finally, is it possible that the balloons were just leftovers from a promotion and were collecting dust? Did the worker see a “sucker” who would be willing to take them out of the restaurant? The answer is absolutely yes.
Does any of this matter? No. We can look at this small example and argue that it doesn’t matter what the motive was… it was how it made me feel. Often we focus on “the what” instead of the how. In this case it wasn’t so much what the employees were doing as much as it was HOW it made me feel.
Anyway, I love this memory. It was a long time ago and I love thinking about both sides of this experience. Well, sounds like my hot dog lunch my boys are making me is ready. Gross? Perhaps. Made with love? 100% Not the what… but the how.
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