Blessings

Yesterday John and I went to lunch. The quiet turned to many muted conversations as the restaurant traffic increased. As we finished, an elderly father and his son sat down next to us.

The gray-haired father used a cane to steady himself, but he still was moving on his own steam. His middle aged son paid close attention to his movements.

The son read the menu, obviously leaving out items that his father wouldn’t be interested in, and the older man made his choices. When the waitress came to take their orders, the son shared their choices.

Both looked around the room, as if taking it all in. There was little conversation, but they were together and sitting opposite each other.

Their presence next to us gave John and I moments of reflection. Both of us remembered times when we took our parents out to eat and shared those memories with each other.

When we got up to leave, I felt compelled to speak to the son. You readers, that know me well, probably realized that I was a bit out of my element with this, because my thoughts are mostly silent musings. But this situation was one of those times when I couldn’t help myself.

I told the son that they were blessed to be having lunch together. He politely smiled. There is no telling what he thought, as we walked away. But I heard him repeat my words to his father.

Maybe he knew that it was a time to treasure, because those moments of breaking bread together would soon not be. We were glad to see them enjoying time together that we can no longer enjoy with our parents.

Whatever the reason for this occurrence, the warm feelings of blessed memories was a good thing for us. Maybe my words of encouragement and recognition of a special time of sharing gave them something else to ponder. I have never felt comfortable speaking to strangers, but perhaps I will allow my heart to speak aloud more now.