Last Sunday my in-laws treated us to a wonderful brunch at Ettore’s European bakery on Fair Oaks Boulevard. The tough decision of the day was choosing between blueberry pancakes and waffles? Omelet or Eggs Benedict? Honey-baked ham or bacon? The waitress recognized us from the church that morning, so we enjoyed a rare privilege of being served on first-name basis. After finishing our food, we lingered for a while, savoring the fullness of the meal we just consumed and light conversation around the table. Satisfied by the former and bored by the latter, our kids wandered off and explored the restaurant, especially the bakery showcase of outrageously tempting desserts. When we finally got ready to leave, our daughter came back with an enormous chocolate chip cookie in her hand. A kind restaurant worker noticed her gawking at the display and I guess, had pity on the ‘poor starving’ child and gave her the cookie. Too full from the lunch, she took few nibbles and deposited the rest in a paper bag, saving it for later when she would be able to enjoy it more. We loaded up the car and were on our way when, at the stop light, we heard a gentle tap on our window. An old, disheveled man in tattered clothes was holding a hand-written cardboard sign,
HOMELESS PLEASE HELP NEED FOOD
We all scrambled around the car frantically, but the only food item we had was the half-eaten cookie. We asked our daughter if it is O.K. to give the man the cookie, and she shook her head in agreement.
The light has already turned green as we hurriedly handed the bag to the man, apologizing for the incomplete offering. He received the greasy bag with both hands, his face lighting up like the fourth-of-July fireworks of gratitude. The broad smile revealed haphazard array of teeth in various stages of decay. We rushed off, not wanting to delay any further the waiting line of impatient drivers stalled by the exchange. His exuberant words of thanks and blessing trailed behind us in the wind.
Impressed by our daughter’s generosity, I turned around to tell her how much we appreciated her giving spirit. But, instead of a glow of self-satisfaction, her face was contorted with anguish and washed with tears.
What’s wrong?!!! I was in shock, wondering if we might have overstepped her personal boundaries by volunteering her cookie away. Are you sad that you parted with your cookie?
Nooooo…. She wailed. I… am… saaad… I… am… sad.. that I didn’t have more to give to that man…
Her sobs continued on for several minutes, interrupting the silence that descended on our car.
Her words pierced my heart. We were still full from the tremendous bounty of God’s table. We waddled out of the restaurant and rolled into our car. At the next intersection Jesus knocks on our window, unshowered and unkempt, in need of daily food. I see a half-eaten chocolate-chip cookie handed to the hungry as a noble sacrifice, deserving applaud and affirmation. She sees the insufficiency of her offering and is broken for not being able to do more for the homeless man.
I think I deserve a pat on the back every time I offer God the leftovers from the table of my indulgences. But, when I see Jesus face to face, the grief will be not over parting with crumbled chocolate-chip cookies of this life’s goods, but over all the missed opportunities I had to show His generosity and love to the least of His brothers.
Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me. Matthew 25:40
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