J
Jguerra
Guest
Friday (my weekly day of penance–I’m dressing ‘down’: black dress slacks, white shirt, black tie) after work I drive to the admin offices of the anesthesiologist where I had a balance of $41.25. I’m ready to make a $20 payment to the lady behind the desk.
We make small talk and she notes I live 40 miles away. She thinks I drove all the way in just to make a payment. While I’m explaining that I commute here to work, she says to me just because I made the special effort to come in today, she is writing off the remaining balance. I get my jawbone off the floor and she escorts me to the back door of the office building because it’s closer to my parking space.
I tell my wife the good news.
Saturday morning I’m having breakfast with my DW at our favorite restaurant. When we go up to the cashier to pay our tab, we see two very young men in army fatigues waiting for their order to go. I whisper to my wife how I wish we could pay for their meal. She says, why not? We ask the cashier about the men’s order–they’re buying taquitos for the troops, about a dozen men. My wife says let’s do it. We pay for their order and scoot out the door (“let your deeds of mercy be secret”).
The men, members of the local national guard armory, intercept us in the parking lot and thank us for our generosity. I stammer a few words about my gratitude for their service and pile into the car.
Even if we were able to get away without notice, I am touched first by being the recipient of a blessing (the writing off of a balance) and being able to extend that generosity forward (breakfast for the boys).
Thank you, Lord!
Joe
We make small talk and she notes I live 40 miles away. She thinks I drove all the way in just to make a payment. While I’m explaining that I commute here to work, she says to me just because I made the special effort to come in today, she is writing off the remaining balance. I get my jawbone off the floor and she escorts me to the back door of the office building because it’s closer to my parking space.
I tell my wife the good news.
Saturday morning I’m having breakfast with my DW at our favorite restaurant. When we go up to the cashier to pay our tab, we see two very young men in army fatigues waiting for their order to go. I whisper to my wife how I wish we could pay for their meal. She says, why not? We ask the cashier about the men’s order–they’re buying taquitos for the troops, about a dozen men. My wife says let’s do it. We pay for their order and scoot out the door (“let your deeds of mercy be secret”).
The men, members of the local national guard armory, intercept us in the parking lot and thank us for our generosity. I stammer a few words about my gratitude for their service and pile into the car.
Even if we were able to get away without notice, I am touched first by being the recipient of a blessing (the writing off of a balance) and being able to extend that generosity forward (breakfast for the boys).
Thank you, Lord!
Joe