I eyed him from where Jerry and I sat. Before we selected our booth, the clerk had called our number, we took our food, and at the soda dispenser dumped ice and Diet Coke into the white Styrofoam cups we had been given. We selected salsa for our rolled tacos. The man came in after we had begun eating.
He was youngish, dark haired, rather fair of skin; altogether not a bad looking man. His clothes were nondescript jeans and some kind of a plaid shirt. I think he wore a jacket—a dingy colored jacket. He ordered at the counter, paced as he waited, then when he was handed his food—looked like a to-go order, for it was wrapped up in a brown paper bag—he handed over a bill. The clerk gave back change and the man stuck the coins in his pocket. At the dispenser, he filled his Styrofoam cup and headed for the entrance of the café.
He was nearing the door, walking in front of the counter near the cash register, when suddenly, I saw him stop. He gazed at the picture that was propped there—the picture of a little girl, a missing girl. A plastic container was attached to the paper where was printed the image of the abducted child. He stared, set down his food and began digging in his pockets. I heard the sound of coins as they clicked into the plastic container. He reclaimed his food, went easily through the door and climbed into his truck—a red 18 wheeler.
There are many ways to serve God.
“And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”