Forum Navigation
You need to log in to create posts and topics.
BREAKFAST AT DENNY'S
#1 · September 12, 2003, 3:22 pm
Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>
*** Breakfast At Denny's***
At about 6 o'clock in the morning, I firmly knocked on her window and
loudly whispered, "Sarina! Wake up! Sarina!"
Finally I heard a sleep-interrupted voice growl, "Go around!" meaning
for me to go around to the front door. When I got there, Fawn, Sarina's
24-year-old sister, quickly unlocked the door.
"What are you doing here so early in the morning?" came the sleepy
question from 13-year-old Sarina peeking her auburn head from around the
corner.
"I'm taking you to breakfast and then to school. Get dressed," I
uttered in conjunction with my conspiratorial grin.
Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she mumbled something
unintelligible and stumbled back to her room. She emerged later, school
uniform in place, book bag bulging at the seams and we departed for the
local Denny's.
Upon our arrival Sarina immediately spotted a remote control claw
machine and had already targeted her unsuspecting prey -- a stuffed poodle
holding a picture frame.
"Lynelle, can I please play the game? I'll win something for Kallie
again!" she begged.
Kallie is my 14-month-old daughter and is Sarina's excuse for coercing
umpteen dollars from me to play this game that she loves so dearly. Her
reference to "again" is because the very first time she played it, in my
presence, she won Kallie a stuffed animal, therefore the "excuse" holds a
lot of merit -- in her eyes anyway.
"After you eat, you can play a few times."
Satisfied with that answer, she ordered breakfast. When it arrived
she wasted no time. Eating as quickly as she could she asked, "Can I go
play the game now?"
"No, finish your eggs first, Sarina."
Moments later I was fishing quarters from my billfold and depositing
them into her eager hands. In a flash she was in front of the game and
moments later all quarters were gone. She returned empty-handed and
somewhat disappointed, though far from subdued in her quest.
I handed her another dollar. Moments later, again she returned,
crestfallen.
Before I could hand her more money, a man that had been watching her
from the counter, offered to win the coveted poodle frame for her.
Excitedly, Sarina whirled and ran back over to the money-gobbling machine.
However, he too, was not able to grasp the elusive poodle frame with the
flimsy remote control claw.
"Lynelle, please, can I have some more money? I know I can get it
this time. We've moved it now!"
By this time, the entire corner of the restaurant was watching the
scene before them with marked interest. Grinning, I gave her another
dollar. Amidst "You can do it!" and benevolent laughter, she again lost
the prize as it fell from within the claw's metallic clutches. The man
plugged another two dollars in, but to no avail.
Many dollars later the toy still remained inside the machine.
However, the onlookers all had grins tugging at their faces. Their
expressions made me realize that it was the camaraderie in trying that was
the most joyful regardless of the outcome.
Our waiter had even made several valiant, but unsuccessful attempts.
As he turned away, defeated by the machine, I kindly told him, "It's
probably too heavy to lift with that claw." He merely shook his head and
then unobtrusively walked out the front door.
When he came back in, he quietly walked over to Sarina and placed an
identical poodle frame, into her hands. Pleasantly surprised, she shyly
said thank you and then flashed me an excited smile. No one had observed
this act of kindness, though. The rest of the group in the restaurant was
still competing to be this young girl's hero. They did not know that her
hero had already quietly revealed himself.
A few minutes later, the waiter called out to the first man that had
originally offered his assistance. When he looked up, he saw Sarina
holding the toy and his face became sheepish while he muttered some
friendly smart aleck comment to our waiter. Still the line of people
competed, refusing to be defeated by a mere machine.
We had so much fun, but more importantly, Sarina was cheered into
forgetting why I was even there that morning.
You see, Sarina's step-daddy -- the only daddy she's ever known -- had
gone into the hospital a few days earlier to remove fluid that was building
up within his chest cavity. After several days of pumping unsuccessfully,
they decided to perform a routine surgery. When they opened him up, they
discovered multiple tumors. This was completely unexpected and came as a
ghastly shock to the stunned medical staff. He was diagnosed with
Mesothelioma, a cancer caused by asbestos. It is noted for a swift, yet
painful death. Sarina had just been delivered the hurtful news the night
before and I had come into town to help in the only way I knew how -- with
my heartfelt love and support.
None of the patrons in Denny's that morning could have possibly known
the turmoil in Sarina's life. It uplifted my heart to see a group of kind
strangers band together to help an innocent girl that early October
morning.
Sarina didn't win anything for Kallie that morning, but she won
something for her own heart -- a very special memory and at a time when she
needed it the most.
loudly whispered, "Sarina! Wake up! Sarina!"
Finally I heard a sleep-interrupted voice growl, "Go around!" meaning
for me to go around to the front door. When I got there, Fawn, Sarina's
24-year-old sister, quickly unlocked the door.
"What are you doing here so early in the morning?" came the sleepy
question from 13-year-old Sarina peeking her auburn head from around the
corner.
"I'm taking you to breakfast and then to school. Get dressed," I
uttered in conjunction with my conspiratorial grin.
Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she mumbled something
unintelligible and stumbled back to her room. She emerged later, school
uniform in place, book bag bulging at the seams and we departed for the
local Denny's.
Upon our arrival Sarina immediately spotted a remote control claw
machine and had already targeted her unsuspecting prey -- a stuffed poodle
holding a picture frame.
"Lynelle, can I please play the game? I'll win something for Kallie
again!" she begged.
Kallie is my 14-month-old daughter and is Sarina's excuse for coercing
umpteen dollars from me to play this game that she loves so dearly. Her
reference to "again" is because the very first time she played it, in my
presence, she won Kallie a stuffed animal, therefore the "excuse" holds a
lot of merit -- in her eyes anyway.
"After you eat, you can play a few times."
Satisfied with that answer, she ordered breakfast. When it arrived
she wasted no time. Eating as quickly as she could she asked, "Can I go
play the game now?"
"No, finish your eggs first, Sarina."
Moments later I was fishing quarters from my billfold and depositing
them into her eager hands. In a flash she was in front of the game and
moments later all quarters were gone. She returned empty-handed and
somewhat disappointed, though far from subdued in her quest.
I handed her another dollar. Moments later, again she returned,
crestfallen.
Before I could hand her more money, a man that had been watching her
from the counter, offered to win the coveted poodle frame for her.
Excitedly, Sarina whirled and ran back over to the money-gobbling machine.
However, he too, was not able to grasp the elusive poodle frame with the
flimsy remote control claw.
"Lynelle, please, can I have some more money? I know I can get it
this time. We've moved it now!"
By this time, the entire corner of the restaurant was watching the
scene before them with marked interest. Grinning, I gave her another
dollar. Amidst "You can do it!" and benevolent laughter, she again lost
the prize as it fell from within the claw's metallic clutches. The man
plugged another two dollars in, but to no avail.
Many dollars later the toy still remained inside the machine.
However, the onlookers all had grins tugging at their faces. Their
expressions made me realize that it was the camaraderie in trying that was
the most joyful regardless of the outcome.
Our waiter had even made several valiant, but unsuccessful attempts.
As he turned away, defeated by the machine, I kindly told him, "It's
probably too heavy to lift with that claw." He merely shook his head and
then unobtrusively walked out the front door.
When he came back in, he quietly walked over to Sarina and placed an
identical poodle frame, into her hands. Pleasantly surprised, she shyly
said thank you and then flashed me an excited smile. No one had observed
this act of kindness, though. The rest of the group in the restaurant was
still competing to be this young girl's hero. They did not know that her
hero had already quietly revealed himself.
A few minutes later, the waiter called out to the first man that had
originally offered his assistance. When he looked up, he saw Sarina
holding the toy and his face became sheepish while he muttered some
friendly smart aleck comment to our waiter. Still the line of people
competed, refusing to be defeated by a mere machine.
We had so much fun, but more importantly, Sarina was cheered into
forgetting why I was even there that morning.
You see, Sarina's step-daddy -- the only daddy she's ever known -- had
gone into the hospital a few days earlier to remove fluid that was building
up within his chest cavity. After several days of pumping unsuccessfully,
they decided to perform a routine surgery. When they opened him up, they
discovered multiple tumors. This was completely unexpected and came as a
ghastly shock to the stunned medical staff. He was diagnosed with
Mesothelioma, a cancer caused by asbestos. It is noted for a swift, yet
painful death. Sarina had just been delivered the hurtful news the night
before and I had come into town to help in the only way I knew how -- with
my heartfelt love and support.
None of the patrons in Denny's that morning could have possibly known
the turmoil in Sarina's life. It uplifted my heart to see a group of kind
strangers band together to help an innocent girl that early October
morning.
Sarina didn't win anything for Kallie that morning, but she won
something for her own heart -- a very special memory and at a time when she
needed it the most.
Lynelle Dawson
*************************************
*** Visiting Day ***
He was looking forward to this moment all day long, after 6 days of labor and it finally arrived - Visiting Day!
The man with the keys arrived to swing open the large, heavy doors. The cold gray hall springs to life in the warm glow of light. He could hardly control His emotions.
The families began to arrive. He peers from the corner of the room longing for the 1st glimpse of His loved one. He lives for the weekends.
He lives for these visits.
As the cars arrive, He watches intently. Then, finally, they arrive, for whom He would do anything. They embrace, eat a light lunch and reminisce how things used to be.
At one point, they break into singing, with interruptions of laughter and applause. But all too soon it is over. A tear comes to His eyes as they depart.
Then the man with the keys closes the heavy doors. He hears the key turn in the lock marking the end of a special day. There He stands, alone again.
He knows that most of His visitors will not contact Him again till next week. As the last car pulls away from the parking lot, Jesus retreats into loneliness as He waits until next Sunday - Visiting Day.
Is the time that we spend with Jesus an everyday thing, or do we just visit Him on Sunday. Think about it...
*********************************************
Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara
Necessary Legal Information
I do not mail idea-central unsolicited. If you are receiving this newsletter from me it's because you have subscribed to this mailing list. If you receive this newsletter and are not a subscriber then someone, other than me, has forwarded it to you.
| Normal Subscribe: | idea-central-subscribe@welovegod.org |
| Normal Unsubscribe: | idea-central-unsubscribe@welovegod.org |
| Web Subscribe: | idea-central-allow-subscribe@welovegod.org |
| Web Unsubscribe: | idea-central-allow-unsubscribe@welovegod.org |
| Email Group Owner: | idea-central-owner@associate.com |