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After many, many long, stressful nights in a hospital, feeling all of the feelings there are to feel, and one particularly intense day, I stepped away for a moment to collect myself.

I tried to remind myself of the words I had been speaking to my son.

You can’t be courageous without fear. Otherwise, you’re just doing a regular thing.

It’s a good and normal thing to express and acknowledge fear or anxiety. And letting tears come out should not be embarrassing or a reason to apologize.

I can’t tell my son not to hold in his tears and then turn around and do the same myself.

I was a ball of anxiety that had been building up over the week. And looking at my son facing seemingly impossible challenges, I could feel my “tear knot” starting to rise in my chest.

I finally got a chance to go to the cafeteria for a bit.

I wavered back and forth between the two lines I understood to be the family voucher meals, weighing which seemed like the better choice.

Two men working the lines were enjoying a discussion, and I didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, I was still pondering whether to risk the chicken wings, which had been sitting under the warmer for an unknown amount of time, or risk how much longer my digestive system could survive on burgers.

The two gentlemen noticed me wavering between the lines and offered to help.

I decided there was less risk in eating another burger, so I moved to that station.

I was the only one there. No line this time!

The older of the two men was working the burger station, and he asked me how I was doing.

His face was so genuine.

I replied, “I just want to take my kid home well.”

My eyes teared up just a tiny bit after fighting the emotional release all day. Then the tears started escaping, slowly, and my voice became a little shaky.

I tried to take a few breaths and steady myself by changing the subject.

I asked how long he had been working there.

I like to ask that when I can. It seems everyone I ask has worked long enough to stick around for years. That’s a good sign.

I didn’t catch the man’s name. I wish I had.

He told me he used to have a food truck before he was hired here. He was excited to move into something more reliable than owning his own business.

Man, do I know that feeling.

He said he didn’t realize when he took the job what he was really getting into.

He just wanted a reliable paycheck and the consistency that owning a business can’t always offer.

He “just wanted to pay the bills!”

But then he told me about a moment when his perspective changed.

A man came through his line one day. When he asked what the man wanted to eat, the man started to weep.

And suddenly, he realized he was doing a lot more than slinging burgers and fries.

He began looking around and noticing the faces he had seen day after day, sometimes for months.

Weary faces. Hopeful eyes. Faces filled with fear. Faces filled with hope.

Exhaustion.

Children simply enjoying a break between appointments.

People from all walks of life.

He realized the people coming through his line weren’t just customers. They were people walking through some of the hardest moments of their lives.

And he had an opportunity to make a difference.

He found a new purpose in his job. What had started as a way to pay the bills became something more.

A calling within his career.

I let a few tears fall as I listened.

He didn’t show pity or make me feel uncomfortable. He just said he would pray for Sawyer and me.

Then he made me one of the best cheeseburgers and orders of sweet potato fries I’ve had in quite a while.

I bought an HU chocolate bar (my favorite “healthy chocolate bar”), found a sunny spot, and sat down with my burger and sweet potato fries.

I read a book.

And I ate the entire chocolate bar.

I felt a little lighter.

I wish I had remembered to ask his name.

Because he did so much more than make me dinner.

That line cook changed my day.

We are all on mission, wherever God allows us to land.

I pray I can be The Church to everyone I encounter in my sleepy, anxious, ready-to-be-home stupor while we’re here.

Only by the grace of God.

Because on my own, I would probably just be whiny and frustrated.

And maybe rude.

But through the power of the Holy Spirit, maybe I can be a little more like my line cook.

So, let’s all go eat a healthy chocolate bar…and be The Church!

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