Please be kind to Alex

In a crowded mall food court, I take my seat. We’ve promised Chick-fil-A to our sons, and if we renege on this deal, we’ll have an insurrection on our hands. Shoot fire, these guys can eat!

Directly beside my right shoulder blade, there’s a small, square table. A young Hispanic boy sits there. I glance at his meal. It looks like soft tacos. They look fabulous, and so I ask him. “Did you get that over at Tako’s? It looks amazing.”

He looks up at the curly-headed stranger. “Yes. You should try it.”

My boys are scattered about, two waiting in line with their dad, and He of the Crutches sits across from me. I’ve got some time, and here I go.

“Are you in high school?” I say to this son of another mother.

“Yes.” I ask, and he answers, and soon I know what school he attends, what grade he’s in, and which sport he plays.

“Are you going to college?” I say. He says he will and, when I ask, he tells me his dream.

“I want to be a mechanic.”

“Ah! Well, I have four boys, and we can really use a good mechanic.” A smile is lighting up my face.

Now I look, really look, at him. Black fuzz, the beginning of a mustache, adorns his upper lip. The hair atop his head is curly and long. Then I say, “Your life has a purpose.” Earnest eyes look back at me.

“God’s eye is on you, and I don’t mean in a harsh, angry way, but in the most loving way. I’m gonna talk to the Big Man (and here, I point one finger up) about you. I want you to be successful.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

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If, some years down the road, you encounter a young mechanic named Alex, please be kind. Encourage him on his way. Show him the God that he heard about today. He’ll be needing some water on that seed…

Just like you. Just like me, for we’re all needin’ water and some love.