A priest, a kid and a cup of coffee
When I was a kid I had a few brushes with generosity that stuck with me. Looking back it’s easier to see how much generosity was all around me, but I’m thinking more of moments that stood out. Like the time our family was in New York City and we ran into one of our parish priests from home in New Jersey. I can’t recall his name sadly, but I remember his effect on me. He was red headed and had an awesome Irish brogue and he flat out lit up when he saw all of us. The youngest of 6 kids, I recall being around 5 years old. The priest said he’d like to buy us kids something and our family followed him into the lobby of a big building. He bought us each a big candy bar of our choosing, he didn’t give us something to share, or buy the little candies, this was a huge chocolate bar! You’d think I got a new bike I was so excited. As a kid we were taught that the priests represented Jesus - in this moment that notion connected. He was happy to see us, generous, and so kind, yeah, that sunk in.
Another formative day was a few years later. I was probably 8 or 9 and a neighborhood kid came by looking for my older brother Mark, when I told him that he wasn’t around he asked me if I wanted to hang out with him… this didn’t happen normally, older kids were not usually nice to younger kids. We must’ve spent 3 or 4 hours walking around, immersed in the deep kind of endless conversation only kids can have, no sense of time or the need to be somewhere else. Just the present and the gift of another kid. What struck me was again, generosity. He was genuinely happy to hang out with me, and he bought me some candy from the news stand “uptown”. I didn’t have any money but he did and so, as far as he was concerned, that meant we both did. In the day to day of childhood, that day left a mark as well.
One of the funnest things for me nowadays is to see someone who is homeless standing outside a coffee shop, stopping to say hello and asking “can I get you a coffee?” (Not sure I’ve ever gotten a “no thanks” to that question)
My next question is modeled in part after those childhood brushes, I simply ask, what’s your favorite, I mean really, what is your favorite drink from this place? Whatever they say is what I buy and the largest size possible (recently I was told White mocha with caramel… which translated into a venti).
Oftentimes this will lead to a good conversation, perhaps a discussion about their circumstance, if they’re aware of local resources, or when the last time they called their family, whatever comes up… and that for me is the real gift.
I just have to ask myself, if I was in such a tough situation, feeling invisible, ashamed maybe, lost in a hard world, sleep deprived or worse… what kindness would lighten my burden, even for a few minutes, or how would I want one of my own to be treated if they were far away from home and without a safe warm place to lay their head? Venti is a fun place to start.
Clearly I’m not changing anyone’s life with a cup of coffee, but I’m hopefully changing their day a little with the dignity of a friendly face and their favorite cup. If I’m really fortunate, I can offer a path out through local resources my new friend may not be aware of.
