‘Tis the season.  Ah, yes!  As I write this, its mid-November and the Christmas decorations have been up in the stores of our nation for a month.  Before you know it, Thanksgiving will have expanded our waistlines and the shopping madness known as “Black Friday” will tempt us to spend money we don’t have on things we don’t need but feel compelled to by, nonetheless.

While all of these seasonal kernels were germinating in my feeble mind, I was reminded of something that took place last year around this time.  It moved me so much that I sent an e-mail about it to almost everyone that I know.  Please pardon the length of this story as I ask that you indulge me while I quote a large part of it here:

Friends and Family:

I’ve wrestled with whether or not to share this story with you all.  I feared that it might come across that I might be trying to draw attention to myself or pat myself on my back by sharing what I got to do last night.  I almost decided not to share this story because of that.  Then, I got to thinking that by not sharing the story, some of you might not be encouraged to “random acts of kindness” and then how sad that would be.  So, I’ve opted to take to the risk of looking self-promoting in the hopes that my story will encourage you to seek out opportunities to help someone in need.

Last night, I experienced something that has haunted me ever since it happened.  It provided yet another “life lesson” with regards to the plight of others, especially in the current economic environment.  Here’s the story:

My lovely wife, daughter, and I had reservations to see Michael W. Smith perform his Christmas Spectacular with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra at the beautiful Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center.  The plan was to pick up our daughter at work, grab a bite to eat, and then head across the freeway to the show.

We were late in picking up Lacie due to horrible traffic heading in to downtown Dallas and all three of us were a little bit grumpy.  We eventually wound up at a little sandwich shop called Potbelly Sandwich Works (contrary to the opinion of some of you, the chain was NOT named in “honor” of my physique) located on the corner of McKinney Avenue and Pearl Street, near downtown.

We ate our meal, caught up on the day’s news and events, and then headed out the door to our car.  After closing the doors behind my wife and daughter, an elderly black gentleman come up to me.  I instantly thought that it was some drunk trying to panhandle some money from me but I noticed that he had the look of fear and/or concern in his eyes.  With that, I listened more closely to what he had to say.  He introduced himself and proved his identity by showing his name on a bus ticket.  He told me that he was on his way home and needed something to eat.  He was especially concerned because he was diabetic and was afraid that, if he didn’t eat and take his insulin, he would start having some problems. 

I wanted to make sure I understood exactly what it was he was after so I asked him if he was looking for something to eat, which he confirmed.  I said, “C’mon, I’ll buy you some dinner” and I escorted him back in to Potbelly’s. 

When my new friend and I walked in to the shop, the staff behind the counter recognized me and seem to immediately know what the situation was by walking in with this gentleman.

Here’s the really cool part.

These people began to treat my new friend as royalty.  They asked all of the questions necessary to make him a sandwich exactly to his specifications.  The whole time, my friend was looking like, “This can’t be for real.  They’re going to throw me out of here any minute.”  We continued down the line, asking him what kind of chips, drinks, and desert he wanted.  He really wanted something hot to drink and, when he learned that they didn’t serve coffee, he opted to not “waste my money” and not get anything to drink. 

The girl at the cash register picked up on it immediately and asked if he would like some soup.  Again, trying to be modest, he said that he would take a small cup of soup.  She replied, “How about I put some soup in this cup?” and pulled out a large soft drink cup.  He said, “You sure?”  We both nodded our heads “yes”.  When it came time to pay up, the cashier whispered to me, “I’ll just charge you for the sandwich.”

When I made sure that my new friend was taken care of, I patted him on his back, wished him Godspeed, and he turned around, shook my hand, and thanked me.  I turned to say “thanks” to the cashier and she was smiling ear to ear, so much so that it seemed to occupy her entire face. 

I was struck by the fact that three strangers (the sandwich chef, the cashier, and me) converged at a single moment in time, brought together to show kindness to a man in fear and need.  What did it cost us?  It cost me five bucks and a few extra minutes of my time.  It probably cost the good folks at Potbelly’s  probably another $6 to $10 in product.  Knowing that we helped someone in true need and, hopefully, calmed his fears and restored some of his faith in his fellow man is absolutely priceless.

My family and I went on to the show but, though I enjoyed it (I encourage you to see Michael’s show if it hits your town), I couldn’t get my mind off of that man.  I kept thinking of other things that I could have, or should have, done.  I wondered if I left him to soon. 

Then I got to thinking about others that are in need – not just this Christmas but on both sides of the season.  I know of people who had great jobs and are now unemployed and in desperate need.  I see “street people” who, through choice or circumstance, are picking garbage cans for food.  I know of people living in their cars until they can get a job and pay for a roof over their head.

There but by the grace of God go I.  Or you.

I’ll probably never see my new friend again.  However, I’ve resolved to be more on the lookout for people like him.  And, while I know that I can’t solve all of their problems, I know that I can help in some way, shape, or form, and, hopefully, be instrumental in giving them hope to make it through another day and to climb out of the hole that they’re in.”

I vowed that I would not let 2009 be a year of forgetting this incredible story but wanted it to inspire me find opportunities to show kindness.  Was I successful?  Well, while I showed some marked improvement, I wrap up this year feeling that I could have done much better. 

So, as the year winds up and a new one will soon be starting, I have renewed my challenge of finding - no, read that “as aggressively looking” – for opportunities to show kindness to someone who can’t possibly repay me.  I want to do so in a manner that no one but the recipient knows who helped them.  If someone else sees what I do, then it doesn’t count.  I’ve got to find another opportunity.

I have a feeling I won’t run out of opportunities.  I’ll bet that, if you look for them, you won’t run out of opportunities, either.