Conversations in Diners

She sits in a diner in a booth alone. As with most dreams she doesn't remember how she got there. Only that there is a purpose for her visit. While she waits, she clicks her fingernails on the tabletop. Listens to the dull hum of the other customers as they converse. The clinks of the knives and forks on scratched white glass plates. The sizzle of food hitting the flat top. Then through the noise she hears it. The bell at the top of the door. She's positioned herself to be able to watch as people go in and out. She knows that the first of three has arrived, though she can't see anyone. This particular visitor isn't tall enough to peek over the top of the booth next to the door. So she waits patiently. She knows the little girl is nervous. Finally the child peaks around the side of the tall backed seat. She looks a bit skittish until her eyes meet with the Lady. In an instant, her face is transformed. With a joyful grin that speaks nothing of her former nerves, she almost skips to the booth.

"There you are beautiful girl!" The Lady says as she scoots over and allows the child next to her. The little girl grins up at her.

"I was told it's your birthday. And that for your birthday you wanted to talk to me. It's my birthday too!" She excitedly fidgets.

The Lady looks over the child. She knows her all too well. Remembers her 7th birthday. As with most children, life seemed so much simpler. This conversation isn't about facing tough choices to come or rehashing mistakes. This conversation is about planting seeds.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Inquisitive child. Not a trait soon to be stifled.

"I just wanted to have a chat with you, if that's okay. It's all I want for my birthday. A conversation about facts and opinions. You know about those?"

Of course the child does. Thinking deep thoughts has never been hard for her. And it isn't a burden yet.

"I wanted to tell you about some things that are facts. Things that you believe to be opinions."

Her eyebrows crinkle as she leans in. Because she wants to be respectful and hear what the Lady has to say. And because she has a hunger for this conversation that's yet to be had.

"I want you to know this world will try to burden you. To tell you of all the things about yourself that you need to fix or change. Ignore them my sweet girl. God made you and when he made you he didn't make any mistakes. You're precious to him."

She doesn't smile. Not for lack of happiness but because she's taking it all in. The lady wants her to know the truth. She wants to spare her heartache. She wants her to smile.

They talk for a while. She tells of her dreams. The Lady tells her if she puts in the work she can do anything she sets her mind to. That God will open doors.

As time dwindles the Lady reaches for her little hand.

"Remember the feel of it in your palm and know that even if you can't see it, that God's hand will always be there. Even if no one else is." The child squeezes her fingers and looks into her older eyes.

"You're beautiful too" she tells her as they say their goodbyes. And the lady must remind herself of the difference between facts and opinions. And something inside of her heals.

As the child walks towards the door the bell jingles again. There in the entrance a teenage girl stands. The lady watches taking in so much more than just her appearance.

As the teen approaches from the outside she appears to be a little bit more confident. But the Lady knows the truth. That sometimes it's easy to fake being an extrovert. Easier than being honest with your own feelings. That comedy can be a useful distraction. She meets those 17-year-old eyes and she knows all too well of the conundrum. Of how it's possible to be the largest person in the room and feel like the smallest.

The teenage cracks a small smile, says a polite hello and seats herself across the booth.

"I was told that I needed to speak with you. That it was what you wanted for your birthday."

She doesn't reveal that it's her birthday too. She's anxious. The unknown of the meeting puts her on edge. And she doesn't want to seem full of herself.

"Yes, we share a birthday actually. Happy 17th!"

And with that she's graced with a real smile. Because that little acknowledgment is a gift to her. Because stuff never mattered much but words meant effort. Consideration.

"How are you doing today?" The lady asks.

She knows that with teenagehood comes those all too typical emotional fluctuations. She wants to get a bearing on what version of the girl she might be speaking with today. Is it the one who is giddy? There's this boy that she likes who said a kind word to her today. Is it the one who is sad? She's rehashing conversations she had with peers and thinking of all the ways it could have sounded more mature. More likable. Is it the one who is burdened? Will there ever come a time when someone looks at her like the other couples around her look at each other?

"I'm okay" she says with a small smile.

"I want to talk to you today of hard truths. Not always painful but necessary. The most immediate one being that you don't have to say you're okay when you're not. Not with everyone. You may have a small circle, but it's a safe one. A circle that will remain for years. So you may put on a brave face for the world, but around them your honesty is necessary for your peace. Don't make the mistake of holding it all in just because you don't want to be a burden. Burden your circle because you want them to burden you. Because in the end it's not a burden. It's a deep breath when you have been holding still for so long that you shake."

She listens intently to the Lady. She soaks in every word.

"I know you're worried about many things. You're worried about being alone. That life will pass by and take with it what joys you do have. That things will go too quickly and you'll miss some door that you were supposed to walk through that held everything you ever dreamed of. That it will be your fault."

Her strong facade starts to crack. But she's not a cryer. At least she hasn't been up to this point. So she clinches her jaw and waits for the rest of the hard truths. Because even if it's painful, she believes ignorance will never be bliss.

"I won't give you all the details. Some things need to be experienced in the moment. I will, however, let you know that your worries are unfounded. That God in his infinite wisdom has such a plan for you. That you needn't rush things because in time it will fly by much quicker than you ever wanted it to. That God already made you someone. And he's perfect. Or at least perfect for you. That it'll be so strange that for years you won't even understand how you earned it. Because it will all be the Lord."

Her 17 year old shoulders slack. Not because she's disappointed. It's because the weight of one of the burdens that she carried has lifted. Because she doesn't even need to know the details, even though it makes her giddy. God made her someone. And that's enough for now.

"But will I be enough for him?" She hesitantly asks. And the Lady can read all the lines in between that remain unspoken. Will she be too fat? Too weird? Too tall? Too loud? What should she change? What should she work on to earn his love?

"Baby girl, you'll be enough for him even when you're not enough for yourself. Because the love he has for you mirrors God's love for you. Don't worry about pleasing the man. Just work on pleasing the Lord."

She seems to have a peaceful determination about her now. As they say their goodbyes the Lady reaches across the booth and grabs her hand.

"Remember that loving yourself isn't always vanity. Sometimes it's a praise to the Lord, for he makes no mistakes, and you darling girl are no mistake."

She gazes back and with wisdom that most her age don't possess, a godly gift, she says "You must remember these hard truths as well." And with that she departs and the lady heals a bit more.

A little time passes and the lady reflects on her final meeting. One that may bring exhaustion. Not physical. Mental. Not for just her. For her visitor.

The sun has started to set through the windows of the diner. The orange hues bounce off the tabletops and glare off the sliverwear. The bell rings.

This one walks into the diner slowly. More resigned than her past counterparts. She lifts her head and meets eyes with the lady. She approaches with heavy steps and heavy breath. Her 27 year old body has been put through the ringer at times. Life has been overwhelming.

As she acknowledges with a tilt of her head, she slides into the booth in front of the lady. What she doesn't expect is that the lady leaves her side and slides in next to her. That alone is enough to make her eyes water.

She wants to ask what are you doing? Why would you want to be right beside me? But she doesn't ask because she doesn't want to know. She's learned sometimes it's easier not to ask questions. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And because sometimes someone willingly being close makes it a little easier to breathe.

"Happy birthday dear Lady. I pray that it's a blessed one."

And she means it. She thinks nothing of herself and the fact that it's her birthday as well. Because they just don't seem to mean that much in all the chaos these days. Because she doesn't feel she means that much either.

"Thank you beautiful girl. Happy birthday to you as well."

She looks into her eyes. She isn't sure if she's more taken back by being called beautiful or being called a girl. Both seem inaccurate these days. She feels old. Old in body. Old in spirit.

The lady gazes at her. Through the exhaustion she knows she feels. Through the headaches. Through the heartaches. And what she sees is still beautiful. She knows the girl will struggle to believe this if she tells her, so instead she brings what she knows the girl does need.

"For my birthday I wish to impart something to you. Because as you approach midlife the thing that I think you could most use is some comfort."

Her 27-year-old eyebrows crinkle at that. It wasn't what she was expecting. But it doesn't mean that it isn't something she would like to receive. So she waits patiently. Because comfort sounds like a nice dream.

"I wanted to let you know that you're doing a good job. I know you feel like a failure a lot. That guy was on to something when he said comparison is a thief of joy. I want you to know that things are going to be okay. Maybe not always sunshine and roses, but that life will be okay. That through the mountains and valleys in life and in your mind, that God will send you peace. That you'll come to know that it's a blessing to be able to have middle ground. That when life isn't crashing all around you but all your prayers aren't immediately answered, that peace will sustain you. I want you to know that you have weathered storms that some couldn't survive. And it's for that reason that God gave you those storms. Because you were able to walk out of them. And because now you can help others walk out of them as well. I cannot promise that there won't be times of trials. But you're going to learn to manage them better. You're going to lean into the Lord, your mate, your family and your circle and you're going to be okay. You haven't failed them, and you haven't failed yourself."

She's kept her head down while the Lady speaks. Because she didn't know anyone noticed. Noticed how heavy life had become. Noticed how many times she replayed things in her mind. Thinking of all the ways she could have done it better. Been a better wife. A better mother. A better daughter. A better Christian.

And so she who doesn't cry, she who can't cry, opens her eyes to the table top and sees the drops of moisture that have fallen there. And she realizes it's okay to let go. To let the emotions go. To let the tears go. And so she cries. And so the Lady holds her.

She's been true to her word. She brings comfort. Truly a precious gift.

When the tears have calmed, they gaze into each other's eyes.

"So I'm okay in 10 years?" She asks.

She remembers now. Talking to the lady when she was 7. Learning of facts and opinions. Speaking to her when she was 17. Hearing hard truths. And now at 27 receiving comfort that was most needed.

"Yeah. Not perfect. But peaceful. I kind of like myself."

"I like you too"

And with that she departs and the Lady heals a bit more. She is left alone in the diner as the last waitress wipes down tables. She pays her bill and exits through the door accompanied by that all too familiar ring of the bell. The stars keep her company now.

She is 37 today and all she wanted for her birthday was to visit the past. She knows it's all a dream. But she's thankful. She knows while life threw some curveballs, it has also helped to form her into the person she is today. That in all things God had a plan.

And with that she walks toward her next birthday, not with dread or anxiety, but with peace.

There's something to be said for conversations in diners.