After three massages last night, not one bit of me felt guilty for my Starbucks addiction. It literally hurt to get out of bed.
On my way out of Starbucks, with my Cranberry Bliss Bar and Pumpkin Spice Chai, I had to pause while the hot man in front me changed his mind halfway through the door and darted back inside.
Turning to see what had caused his distraction, I watched him walk over to a table where a solitary African-American boy sat reading a book at an empty table. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen. I hadn’t noticed him. Of course, that’s not too surprising since I didn’t even notice the hot man until he nearly ran me over.
The man went over to the boy and asked if he were with anyone and if he would like anything, an orange juice or something. The boy was obviously hesitant (smart boy), but soon nodded his head.
I don’t know why a young kid was in Starbucks by himself, I don’t know if he was short on cash or not (didn’t look like it, he was very well dressed), I don’t know what he had for breakfast or what he will have for lunch—he didn’t appear to be overly in need or anything. Even so, observing the interaction made my morning. Of course it didn’t hurt that the guy was cute, made even cuter by his actions, but really, it was like one of those stupid, cheesy, make-me-cry, ‘pass it on’ commercials.
Just as our every negative action that we think is so private affects everyone around us, so does our little unseen flashes of Godliness and humanity, our unselfish acts of love. In what has been a very emotionally hard several days, that brief moment was beautiful and perfect—somehow even more meaningful than if he had asked to buy me a drink. Sometimes, in my job, I don’t see enough people really caring for their own kids, let alone someone else’s. I’m so grateful that’s not reality. I’m so grateful for tangible evidences of love.
Black Coffee Tables
2 years ago