Dining

Looking over the menu, pondering again the savory choices and thoughtfully weighing the many possibilities, I was at long last ready to place my order. I had been seated at the table for quite some time. All the while the one who came to serve me offered exceptional assistance, both by cheerfully stating his desire to honor my request when I was ready, and by patiently waiting for me to become so.

It was not my first time. I'd been at this table before, in fact I was a regular patron of the establishment. We were not strangers, my server and I. He had invested a great deal of his time tolerating my indecisiveness, listening to me try to convince myself that my menu choice would indeed satisfy the cravings of my appetite. All I ever really gave him in return for his service was a pittance of a tip compared to what he'd willingly and even eagerly, and continuously offered in service to me. He was just there, ready when I was.

I could sense as he listened, that he rarely considered my selections favorable. He was right, he was always right. He offered his suggestions, but of course, he would not, could not, make the decision for me. I do like to choose for myself. I did take him up on his offers occasionally, at least bits and pieces, a little of this or that, but all together what he thought I should choose just never seemed to be what I had a taste for.

I have a sweet tooth, so scanning the desert menu normally preceded the entrees. Too often what was visually tasty turned out to be nothing more than a lot of fluff, like European pastries, enticing but flavorless. Those irresistible sweet temptations repeatedly proved a disappointing addition of only unhealthy and non-nutritious artery clogging, heart fatiguing, fat burdening calories. Appie's have also always been especially appealing, but filling up on desert and appetizers left me hungry again soon after.

Substance was lacking.

For years and years it had been my habit to open the menu and direct my eyes to the prices, narrow my choices down to something among the least expensive and then decide. There was a strict limit to what I would allow the activity to cost me. Sometimes I absolutely salivated for one of the menu's most exorbitantly priced indulgences but knew they were reserved, for others.

Familiar as my server was with my fickle cuisine bents and palate inclinations, I knew without looking that he rolled his eyes and shook his head as he listened to me rattle off yet another unsavory choice. He reluctantly but compliantly indulged my whims, never surprised. He seemed to know a secret about me that I did not know about myself. It was as if he knew all along that the day would come when I would sit at his table and only briefly skim the menu for desert and prices, still plagued as a creature of habit, but more positively influenced. 

This time, having already predetermined what my order would be, he listened as I without hesitation looked him square in the eyes and said, I'll start with a hardly-difficult roll and a seize-her-day salad. After that I'd like the full rack-of-babies-with-ticklish ribs, a side of potatoes-all-rotten forgotten, and roasted summer squash-frivolous-squabbles. For desert I'd like the plum-tired-of-nonsense pudding, and a decaf express-my-soul.

He smiled.

Apparently, it was not even necessary to write it down or place the order with the chef. In only moments, large double doors swung open and through them came the entire wait staff bearing silver platters of my hearts desire, all that I had ordered and more!

I admired the lavish offerings with wide eyes, thanking them sincerely and repeatedly, and asked to have it all wrapped up to-go.

My server's smile grew even larger.

Each satisfying dish was carefully wrapped and packaged for safe transport, with a few extra tasty treats added in. It was a delectable feast, and there was plenty of it to share, all around.

"There's more where that came from" he said, "don't forget". I smiled and waved. We both knew I wouldn't forget. I would be back for more, of course.

There's a lot of hungry people out there, and I know where they can get their fill.

P.J.

 Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.
  Matthew 4:4 

 For he satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.
Psalm 107:9