The dining room is almost full. People of every age and every energy level sit in groups of various sizes. Some chat as fries are dipped in sauce, some smile silently as ice cream cones dwindle in peace, and some meander toward refills of soda.
A frail, middle-aged woman with tattered clothes and a second-hand designer purse slips in through the sliding door. Her hair is thin and her make-up is noticeable. She stands quietly alone a few feet from the cashier's line.
People either see her or they don't, but body language around the room pays her no attention. Eyes nonchalantly scan, and curiosities are whispered between bites, while oblivion completely shields other ongoing conversations.
Minutes pass, and the couple waiting for their order in the front booth casually strike up a quiet conversation with the woman. Smiles and sentences are exchanged and then they separate again. The husband approaches the counter to place an additional order then returns to his tidy booth without very many people noticing.
Standing straight against the display of bread and fruit, the woman folds her hands together tightly at her waist and waits.
A few patrons find themselves making accidental eye contact once they have stared too long in her direction. Suppositions of her story stream through several head-ducked whisper discussions around the room.
One teenaged girl watches as the woman stands and waits alone. She mouths compassionate concern to her mom while thumbing through her wallet. Their non-verbal stratgizing is unclear yet unified and hesitant.
Just then, a number is called and the gentleman in the front booth collects the to-go bag and foam cup then hands them to the woman.
It seems like several folks are watching now, waiting to sum it up with her departure. But near the exit, she turns and walks to the corner booth where she slides into the seat to eagerly unpack her supper.
Heads seem to bow all around as she pauses before her first bite.
God bless this food and it's not polite to stare.
The teen still seems intent on engaging and has evidently been granted permission. She bundles her half-eaten sandwich and fries, grabs her drink, and approaches the woman's booth.
Like a silent film, eyebrows raise with humble offerings, hands pat the table in glad agreement, and the rigid unwrapping of sandwiches between strangers catches the attention of the crowd.
Everyone acts normal at their tables while 80's music plays through the ceiling speakers. But also, it is a muted freeze-frame of nervous curiosity and awe.
After a few minutes, the girl's mother makes a trip past the trash can and introduces herself to the woman. The woman smiles big and commends the mother on raising such a kind daughter. The girl shows signs of overwhelm as she explains to her mom that the woman is asking for money.
The mother gently touches the woman's shoulder as frantic hands roll through explanations and requests. It is the first time words are loud enough to be heard across the room. "If I just had a few dollars to buy lunch meat and some bread . . . And a flashlight . . ."
While the woman expresses her preference for cash, the mother's face asks her girl, "Are you good or are you ready to go?" The girl, seemingly comforted by her mother's support, smiles, "all good".
The mother excuses herself and goes to the grocery section of the store. She places a loaf of bread and a package of turkey on the cashier's counter. The employee's quizzical grin precedes her answer, "No, I don't believe we sell flashlights." She cinches the plastic bag, ties a knot, and smiles, "Thank you, and God bless this."
The dinner rush is over and the room is calm and quiet. A little boy and his grandmother sitting nearby have finished their cones and are almost ready to leave. The grandmother clears the table and gathers her purse and sweater as she monitors the boy's solo trip to the counter. He loosens the velcro of his man-sized wallet to pay and zip up the change.
He walks with purpose and care to deliver the chocolate ice cream cone to the woman in the booth with the teen. She gasps with delight and hugs the little boy as if they are family. He blushes brave to receive his thanks and runs back to clasp hands with his grandma so they can go home.
The mother carrying groceries passes the little boy on her way back to the booth. Setting the bag on the table, she agrees with the woman in the joy of the unexpected sweet treat, and nods to her daughter that it's time to go.
And they go.
As we go. Into our world. Whether "Braum's" is our workplace or dinner spot or pit-stop traveling through . . .
"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:2
