"Pain"

So the other night after work, I stopped at the neighborhood Thai food place to pick up some pad thai.

As I waited for my to-go order, an elderly Asian gentleman customer entered the restaurant. I, along with the restaurant staff, found it slightly amusing that he emerged from the kitchen area as opposed to the front doors. The employee at the front asked him how he’d gotten there. He said there used to be an entrance through the back, when it was under different ownership. But this was no longer the case.

She then left him alone to peruse the menu. I wasn’t sure if he was there to dine in or to order and take out. But I did know that he was alone.

The restaurant was dimly lit and he struggled to read the menu. He moved around trying to find optimal light. He walked to different tables, hoping that the visibility might improve in a different spot. He walked over to a corner of the restaurant and held the menu up to the light. But nothing. Finally, I offered him a take-out menu to see if the text was any more readable. It wasn’t.

The front desk employee didn’t seem too concerned with his plight. Business is business, it seemed. And as she juggled phone calls on 2 different phones that night, business was booming.

My pad thai to-go was ready. I took my order and left as he asked her about different noodle types. I hoped that he would find some sympathy with her.

A simple setting, right? Just a man ordering some food at a restaurant. Yet, I cannot tell you how my heart hurt for him. If only for a few moments, that hurt was almost overwhelming. As I beheld this man, hearing aids and all, with no one to help him read a menu, my heart hurt at the thought that HIS heart might hurt.

I know that pain is oftentimes a natural part of life—and that we have to endure it sometimes to be sifted or shaped or grown. But if I can do my part to prevent someone’s pain—or to encourage someone in the MIDST of his pain so that it is lessened even somewhat, then I have done my part.