We went to a little Italian place tonight and I couldn’t finish the small pizza I ordered. I knew this when I ordered but wanted a Hawaiian pizza.
(Stop here for a moment. This isn’t about you not liking pineapple on your pizza. It’s not that I don’t care, I can’t. I love pineapple and ham on a pizza. It’s perfection.)
The waitress asked me if I had a problem with the food. I told her no, I was full and we’d had a late lunch. We’ve never had a bad meal or service at that restaurant. She said I might be a blessing in disguise because one of the boys that worked in the kitchen was hungry and had no money to eat.
Okay, I heard one of the boys in the back was angry. The waitress had walked away and I looked at the wife and said said, “Did they do something to my pizza?”
She told me the waitress said hungry not angry. I felt something push me up out my chair and went to find the waitress. Reached in my pocket and pulled out a twenty and told the waitress to put it in the boys pocket, just make sure he got it.
It doesn’t matter how bad you got it someone else has it worse. I was wasting food someone else would gladly take. I would have spent that twenty on something stupid most likely. He’ll eat another meal or two.
I’m blessed. Beyond measure. What I have is fantastic. I surely hope I never receive what I deserve.
I got friends, family, a decent job and food in my belly. My kids want for nothing and have a roof over their heads. And they are loved just like the rest of my friends and family.
Count your blessings.
(This ain’t tooting my own horn or nothing. Go out and do nice things for people that can’t do anything for you so that they in turn may do nice things for others. It’s one of the only ways we’ll change this world.)