Josiah, my 5-year-old son, and I were seated alone at Waffle House when he noticed a man outside. He had all he owned in a little, frayed bag, and his face was haggard and his clothes were ragged.
Whispering, “Mom,” Josiah pulled at my sleeve. “Who is that?”
I looked over. “My dear, I believe he may be homeless.”
Josiah’s tiny face furrowed in perplexity. “What is meant by that?”
I said quietly, “It means he doesn’t have a home.” “And he may not be eating either.”
It only required that. Josiah sprung from his chair and went to the man before I could stop him, waving him inside like a longtime friend.
“You’re without a house? “Come eat with us!” he exclaimed with a smile.
The man paused, glancing down at his shabby sneakers. There was silence throughout the entire diner. I sensed that people were observing, anticipating what would come next.
I grinned and nodded. “Please allow us to bring you some food.”
The waiter asked the man what he wanted when she arrived. Josiah exclaimed, “Get him the biggest burger we have!” before he could even respond.
However, what followed devastated me.
Josiah shouted before the man even took a mouthful, “Wait! We must pray. My small child then lowered his head and offered a blessing in the center of Waffle House.
The man was one of eleven people in that restaurant with tears in their eyes. The server dabbed at her face. In the corner, a truck driver grinned and shook his head. What about the man? He gazed upon Josiah as if he had never been seen before.
One of my favorite memories as a parent will always be the night I saw my son touch so many hearts.
Because generosity doesn’t require financial gain. Big words are not necessary.
It only takes a five-year-old with a huge heart sometimes.
However, it didn’t end there.
Something unexpected occurred as we sat there, Josiah chatting away with the man as though they had known each other for ages. The other customers started paying for their meals one by one, leaving extra cash for the clerk.
An older woman placed a twenty on the counter and stated, “For anyone else who might need it.” A few bills of his own were contributed by the truck driver who had been observing earlier.
He informed the waitress, “Make sure he has enough for breakfast tomorrow.”
The waitress herself shook her head in shock, as if she were overwhelmed. She said, “I’ve been here for twelve years.” “This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
When the man eventually took a bite out of his burger, Josiah simply smiled, completely oblivious to the ripple effect he had generated. “All right?” he inquired.
The man’s eyes were sparkling as he swallowed hard. With emotion in his voice, he declared, “This was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” For the first time, I had a glimpse of his former self before life had beaten him down as he looked at me.
With hesitation, he said, “Ma’am.” “I had a little boy once. He would now be around his age. It has been years since I last saw him. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I made numerous errors. However, the generosity your kid displayed to me tonight gives me hope. Perhaps there is yet time to strive to make things better.
My throat constricted. I assured him, “It’s never too late.”
Josiah did something that caused me and pretty much everyone else to fall apart again as we were getting ready to depart. He offered the man his little red hoodie, which he always insisted on wearing regardless of the weather.
With simplicity, he said, “So you won’t be cold.”
The man took it and held the cloth to his chest as if it were the most valuable item in the world.
I glanced back through the window as we climbed into the car after leaving the Waffle House that evening. With his palm resting on that small red sweatshirt, the man continued to sit there and stare after us. He wasn’t alone, though.
A chair had been dragged up by the truck driver. So had the older woman. They were conversing with him. listening. treating him as though he were a person and had importance.
And perhaps, just possibly, my young boy’s one small deed of compassion had sparked something greater than any of us could have predicted.
That evening, we returned home with full hearts, and as I put Josiah to bed, I squeezed him a little harder. He curled up behind the sheets and yawned.
“Mom, did I do something right?” He asked drowsily.
I gave him a forehead kiss. “My dear, you did a fantastic thing.”
He closed his eyes and grinned. “All right. Tomorrow, I would like to do it once more.
I realized then that kindness is something we do repeatedly. We experience it on a daily basis.
Please share this story if it touched you. One modest deed at a time, let’s promote compassion.
