Extra Cheese

I was invisible as I ordered the first item on the chalk board of specials: Philly Cheese Steak. I savored both the sight of the sandwich that they started to make for me and the nothing that all the other busy people in the store felt towards me. I was careful not to puncture my invisibility by opening my mouth or making any sudden moves. It gave me a chance to look and watch. I find live people much more interesting than movies or television. Often, when I'm not called to interact with people I don't know, I'm blessed to really get a sense of who they are. One woman asked the man in the store how long he had worked there and if he knew a Sergeant Brown who used to eat here five years ago. The way she said his name opened her mail to anyone who took time to notice. I was anyone. She was with two other women. They were all restless and ordered their sandwiches deliberately. Extra cheese! My suspicion was that no amount of extra cheese would sate their hunger for something better in their lives. Outside in the parking lot I saw that they were all traveling together in an unmarked white van. What was this? 

The store's owner is a praise and worship leader at his church. Another man was fixing a light in back of his store. He got a Philly Cheese Steak too, I think, on the house. We all got extra cheese thanks to the woman asking after the Sergeant. 

I drove away wondering. Later, I prayed the silent, easy prayer that such encounters often inspire. This wasn't Eleanor Rigby. In Christ, all the lonely people can get real extra cheese on their lives. Yes, it's a dreadful metaphor, but a wonderful truth. The sandwich was good too. Ordering extra cheese is often the right decision.