A Sunday Breakfast

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How do you spend your Sunday mornings?

A third of the people I know stay curled up in bed for as long as possible, getting up only to feed the loud organ that is their stomach. Another third of them are up early, studying, working out, and starting to tackle long to-do lists. The last third is those friends who are up and out the door, heading to church first thing.

This morning I planned on being in that first group of people (I went to church last night), despite the fact that I have quite a few things to do today. When I got a phone call from my mom around 8:30 asking if I wanted to go to breakfast, I quickly responded with a “yes!”

 

I hopped out of bed, brushed my teeth, washed my hair, put on some makeup & clothes, and was ready in under 13minutes. Definitely a new PR.

15 minutes later, my parents and I were being seated in Cracker Barrel.

When I go anywhere, I’m always super observant. I pay attention to my surroundings…the people around me, the conversations going on, where the nearest door is. Is that weird? 

This morning was no different. I scanned the tables nearby, trying to figure out people’s stories… Are they mad at each other or do they just need coffee? Gosh, those kids need to be disciplined. Are they here on a breakfast date? Oh, I wonder if that couple has a son my age. That’s rude- those people reading the paper while they eat together. Why did that person get that tattoo?! I’m weird, I know.

My parents and I made smalltalk as we waited for our food. We dreamed up family vacation for 2013. Talked about plans for my brother’s 18th birthday next weekend. Our food finally came, and we prayed for it.

As we munched on our country breakfasts and continued to bring up conversation topics, I noticed an older woman being seated at the table next to us. She had on a black sweatsuit, and I expected that she was waiting on her husband who was surely parking the car. Minutes passed, she ordered, and nobody showed up. Here this older woman was, sitting alone drinking coffee at a restaurant on a Sunday morning. I immediately wanted to go sit with her and talk to her.

What was her story? Is she a Sunday morning regular? Why was she alone?

She sipped her coffee and kept her eyes down, except for looking up to greet the occasional waiter inquiring about how she was. She must come here often. She never pulled out a cell phone, newspaper, book, or planner. She sat there alone, patiently waiting for her food. I noticed she wore no rings on her left hand, or her right hand for that matter.

When her food arrived, she immediately started eating. “It’s very good, thank you” she answered her waiter.

I watched her, perhaps looking rude, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

If she’s something like me, she probably likes going places alone. But a public place on a busy Sunday morning in December?

Why is she alone? Where is her family? Does she even have a family?

This woman could have been having the time of her life for all I know, but my heart broke for her. No one should have to have a Sunday breakfast alone. No one should have to sit there, eyes down, as people pass by.

There really is no moral or point to this story, other than that I felt bad for this woman… I wanted to sit with her and buy her breakfast. Sure, it could be the “Christmas spirit” that got ahold of me, or it could be my heart for people. It could be my over-curious nature that questioned all these things about this woman. I don’t know what it was, but this Sunday breakfast sure got me thinking. And it made me more mindful of others, especially during this holiday season.

How was your Sunday breakfast?

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