The diner with the purple awning at the end of an alley in Harrisburg is no longer there. Seven years ago in the early part of the season of Advent on an early weekday morning I was served scrambled eggs, home fries, rye toast and coffee by an angel. That’s what I believe.
To quote the movie, MICHAEL, the waitress was “not that kind of angel” of which you may be thinking: halo, wings, harp, flies, and sings songs with lots of vowels. Nope….not that kind of angel.
The angel who served me breakfast was dumpy, wore too much blush, had a not-so-great permanent, loudly chewed and cracked her chewing gum and on her blue, button-up cardigan wore a nametag that said Harriet.
I was stressed, surly and solo and in Harrisburg for a meeting. Not wanting the hotel’s breakfast, I asked the lady at the front desk to recommend a good, local breakfast place. She told me to go out of the hotel, turn right, go down the alley and go to the place with the purple awning.
The place had counter seats which were mostly filled and several tables. People were smoking and drinking coffee and reading newspapers. The crowd was diverse and most, like I, appeared to be there alone. I took a table near the back and observed the community that had gathered in this place. This was a blue-collar diner where people wore blue jeans, worn sweaters with snowmen, sweatpants with boots and winter coats with the fur lined hoods and neon orange linings. They were a mix of old and young, Latino, Black, white, middle class and poor.
The person who led this community was the waitress who poured the coffee, flitted from table to table, cracked her gum, called you “honey,” wrote down the orders, brought the food, cleared the tables, talked with everyone and seemed to know the stories of each person there. I noticed that the persons at the counter seats knew one another and called the waitress Harriet….clearly, they were the regulars. They asked after one another’s well-being, volunteered to come by and fix what needed fixing at someone’s house and offered to take someone to the store tomorrow so she could get her groceries. They bantered and chided each other with the usual teasing about age as one remarked, “Herm, you’re so old your social security number is one!”
As I watched my fellow diner patrons, I was leafing through papers in a manila folder and jotting down notes in a hurried attempt to do some last minute prep before my meeting. I checked my phone, jostled more papers, wrote a few more lines and ate with my focus on my tasks at hand, not my toast and eggs.
“You in town for a meeting, hon?” asked the waitress.
“Yeah, I got in last night and I’ll be heading back home tomorrow afternoon, “I replied.
“Take your time and enjoy Harrisburg,” she said. “Will do,” I replied as my attention once again went to my papers and meeting preparation.
Several minutes passed and she was back with a pot of coffee asking if I needed a warm-up saying, “It’s a fresh pot, take your time and enjoy the diner’s finest,” Harriet joked as she filled my cup.
A little while later, Harriet was back with my bill and as she placed it face down on the table said, “No rush. Take your time.”
I finished my coffee, put my folders and notepad in order, grabbed my book, took out my wallet and prepared to leave and Harriet came over with a wrapped present. “Here you go! Merry Christmas!”
I wasn’t expecting to receive a wrapped present. Some places give each patron a candy cane or chocolate marshmallow Santa, yet, a wrapped gift?!! I was pleasantly surprised.
I walked to the counter, set down my folders, notepad and books, handed Harriet my bill as I opened my wallet for some money she said, “No rush. Take your time.” I paid the bill, went back to my table to leave a few bucks for a tip, thanked Harriet and exchanged holiday greetings as I left the diner.
I hurried along the streets of Harrisburg at a fast pace carrying my folders, note pad, book and a wrapped present from a waitress I didn’t know. I balanced my stack of stuff as I weaved around and past the slower pedestrians. At one point someone bumped into me nearly upsetting my seemingly well-balanced stack of “important” documents with the wrapped gift on top.
Hours later, after a day of meetings and back in my hotel room I opened my present. It was a midnight blue, with white fringe hand towel with the word “PEACE” embroidered upon it.
Slow down. Take your time. Peace.
The word angel comes from the Greek word “angelos” meaning messenger. Harriet, the busy waitress in a downtown diner gave me the message I most needed to hear….peace…..slow down…take your time… peace.
The Advent season asks us to slow down, pause, ponder, prepare; to listen, look, learn; to give and to receive.
Pay attention to the persons you encounter, the strangers in your path who give you an unexpected gift you most need to receive and to open.
Often we have entertained angels unaware.
sj;
kitetails©