For maybe the second time in the last year, we visited a restaurant and sat down for a meal. It was a lunch – off-peak hours – and except for the workers behind the plexiglass and a few patrons in line or at two or three tables, we had our space to ourselves.

The next day was kind of a special day, but today we were altogether. We set out for burgers, but then split toward burritos and once again for the joint on the south side of the road rather than the north – no problem. I swallowed the sticker-shock and washed it down with my meal, enjoying the rare outing.

Out from the back emerged the manager, jacket on and bag in hand, ready to head home for the day. On spotting us, he lit up and altered course toward our table. With the pandemic in full swing, we hadn’t seen him in maybe two years, but we all recognized one another right away. We met shortly after the shop first opened: the manager was taken by the nice family with the kid in the wheelchair, and ever since has gone the extra mile to make us all feel welcome, comping us the occasional nachos, drinks, or even the boy’s meal, and always making time to talk – sports, video games, and life.

He filled us in on the last year – how difficult it’s been working through the pandemic, his family, kids, marriage, – everything – and we shared the same. Empathy – sad times and laughter. He shared one story in particular about his wedding day, and how an anonymous couple in a restaurant saw his extended family of maybe a dozen people enjoying the special event and paid their entire bill. After such a difficult year, he was filled with joy at the generosity of his fellow men – but his mind immediately was swept back toward an event earlier in the day: While scouting the area for a restaurant that could accommadate them all, he spotted an older man in a wheelchair panhandling. It was clear to him that the fellow needed the help; checking his wallet, the smallest bill was a $20. So be it. He slipped the fellow a $20 with a few kind words, and in return the fellow blessed him. On return to the present, he had a tear in his eye, recognizing the moment and recognizing that, sometimes, God is sometimes more present in the down and out and overlooked.

We continued on for a while about the need to keep faith, hope, and love, in our core, for the sake of our fellow man, our families, and ourselves.

And it’s hard to say how important and well-timed that encounter was for everyone present.