Every Sunday, she stood at the cash register at McDonald’s and took our pancake order. The sweetest thing. A young girl with fair skin and blond hair. So friendly.
I loved her instantly.
I always looked forward to seeing her sweet smile. Because she always seemed happy to see us. If my day had gone South, she’d lift me up, and we’d chat over this and that.
One Sunday, we’d arrived, and she stood off to the side. We made eye contact.
“I’m not working here anymore,” she said and smiled. We chatted a bit.
As weeks passed, I missed her.
Last week, I took my daughter to volunteer at a local veterinary clinic. She loves dogs and cats and wanted to see if that is something she could stomach.
|Oh, my goodness, they were messy.|
We had talked to the vet’s wife beforehand, and she’d said how so many kids think this is what they want to do for a living, but it’s amazing how a 6-foot tall young man can flatten like a pancake, by the smell of surgery. “It’s not usually the blood,” she said, “it’s the smell.”
We giggled. My daughter didn’t think she’d have a problem. She’s been through a lot in life and doesn’t seem to mind needles, shots, blood.
I dropped her off at 9 a.m. I waited and waited. I wondered how things would go.
At noon, I drove into the parking lot, got out, and went inside. Through the reception window, I spotted a familiar face. But it wasn’t my daughter’s face. Wait. It was the face of the young girl who’d worked at McDonald’s. I couldn’t believe it.
I smiled, hoping that was her. If it was her, she’d changed a tiny bit, grown up a little. I didn’t say much, afraid of making a fool out of myself … maybe it was another girl.
But no. Her face lit up. She ran out to hug me.
“I didn’t know you were working here,” I said. “I came to get my daughter who was sitting through surgery today.”
“That’s your daughter?” She’d never really seen my daughter with me at McDonald’s, because my daughter would always go find a seat to save for us while I ordered.
My daughter peeked around the corner, pale as a ghost. Uh oh.
“She got light-headed a few times today, but she’s doing fine,” my friend said. “I put her to work helping me in other areas when she didn’t feel good.”
“Mom, I was doing okay until I noticed blood dripping off the table. That kind of got to me.” We all laughed.
We said our good-byes and hugged.
Out in the car, my daughter said, “She was really nice to me today, Mom.”
And I thanked God for using that sweet girl in my life, to help my daughter. Love had rescued my girl, thereby rescuing me. I never knew the love I’d felt for that young lady would be returned in such a sweet way.
Blue & Hermione, better known as Miney. They are the sweetest cats. So loving. Those rescued know how to love.
“Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much.
But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”—Luke 7:47
“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, , shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” —Luke 6:38