Rock on
I just had the best night in a long time tonight doing table service at All Souls' Monday Night Hospitality. Exhilarating, high energy, flow, working with a team for a goal, a host of people happy to be helped.
One tiny black woman stopped me as I passed and says something I don't understand. I ask her to repeat herself, and she asks, sheepishly, "could...could I please...could I please have a bag that I could tie?" She points to the food she has wrapped up in a plastic bag, but I see that it doesn't have enough plastic at the top for her to tie it. I tell her I'll see what I can do.
Heading back to the kitchen, I see somebody leave a closet with a small plastic bag. I go in, look around, grab a suitable looking grocery bag, and take it back to the woman. She is shocked. "Thank you Jesus! You brought me a bag I could tie!" I nod and smile at her and go back to waiting on tables, but when I pass by her again she's still excited. "Thank you! Thank you Jesus! You brought me a bag I could tie!"
Wow. "You're welcome," I said, grinning. I don't know when was the last time I felt that much gratitude from a person. Wild.
While we were cleaning up, a man took over the piano in the corner. It didn't take long to realize the music coming out of it was amazing, and I joined the gathering crowd. He was paunchy with a graying beard, a baseball hat, a flannel shirt, and honest-to-god spurs on his boots. He had his eyes closed and without any sheet music his hands danced up and down the keys playing gracefully, perfectly, some classical music. When he finally--after a long time--ended the piece, he was beaming at us as we applauded. After a few more songs, he stands up and receives our personal congratulations, bursting with joy at each one. Somebody asks him his name. He sticks out his belly and points to his huge belt buckle, which says in large capital letters BUSTER. People tell him he's amazing at the piano. He informs us that he spent six years at Julliard, and that one of the event coordinators, Tom, and graciously let him sit at the piano to prove it.
"Thank you--your are wonderful," I told him, shaking his hand.
"Thank you! And keep that excellent beard!" Buster, a celebrity, told me.
"You too!" I said, shy about it.
Awesome. I think I'll go back next week.
One tiny black woman stopped me as I passed and says something I don't understand. I ask her to repeat herself, and she asks, sheepishly, "could...could I please...could I please have a bag that I could tie?" She points to the food she has wrapped up in a plastic bag, but I see that it doesn't have enough plastic at the top for her to tie it. I tell her I'll see what I can do.
Heading back to the kitchen, I see somebody leave a closet with a small plastic bag. I go in, look around, grab a suitable looking grocery bag, and take it back to the woman. She is shocked. "Thank you Jesus! You brought me a bag I could tie!" I nod and smile at her and go back to waiting on tables, but when I pass by her again she's still excited. "Thank you! Thank you Jesus! You brought me a bag I could tie!"
Wow. "You're welcome," I said, grinning. I don't know when was the last time I felt that much gratitude from a person. Wild.
While we were cleaning up, a man took over the piano in the corner. It didn't take long to realize the music coming out of it was amazing, and I joined the gathering crowd. He was paunchy with a graying beard, a baseball hat, a flannel shirt, and honest-to-god spurs on his boots. He had his eyes closed and without any sheet music his hands danced up and down the keys playing gracefully, perfectly, some classical music. When he finally--after a long time--ended the piece, he was beaming at us as we applauded. After a few more songs, he stands up and receives our personal congratulations, bursting with joy at each one. Somebody asks him his name. He sticks out his belly and points to his huge belt buckle, which says in large capital letters BUSTER. People tell him he's amazing at the piano. He informs us that he spent six years at Julliard, and that one of the event coordinators, Tom, and graciously let him sit at the piano to prove it.
"Thank you--your are wonderful," I told him, shaking his hand.
"Thank you! And keep that excellent beard!" Buster, a celebrity, told me.
"You too!" I said, shy about it.
Awesome. I think I'll go back next week.