Here's the story of one of the last times I ate at a restaurant, 'pre-apocalypse'. Before 'social distancing' was introduced into our collective vocabulary. I know it's only been a week, but I already miss the simple things I used to take for granted, like: not cooking, not reheating leftovers, not consuming endless turkey sandwiches. What I'm trying to say is, I miss eating at McDonald's. 😊
Just the other day, I stopped to get breakfast at my favorite "tastes so good but hurts so bad" restaurant, McDonald's. I ventured inside, the drive-through was even more backed up than usual for a Saturday morning. Don't ask me how I know this...
Sitting down to eat, I heard a bunch of old men talking. The subject; baseball. They were all in their 80s. Drinking their coffee. Telling their stories. It was around 9:45 am. Their one appointment for the day.
As I listened, I was reminded of a time gone by. A time when baseball was still America's sport. Everyone loved football and basketball but every little boy played baseball. The players, our heroes, were household names and larger than life: Kirby Puckett, Darryl Strawberry, Pete Rose, Nolan Ryan, Mike Schmidt. The 1980's were still the Baseball Years.
That's why I love McDonald's. The old and wise people of our communities gather to keep alive the memories of their childhood. They don't need trendy coffee shops. They are happy with their friends, cheap coffee, and Egg McMuffins, reminiscing about old Hawaii.
Maybe one day, years from now, I'll be sitting around McDonald's with my friends, talking about my little league years: How I never made all-stars, not even once. How I played catcher because I was tough, even though I was small. How we used to potluck every Saturday after the game, long into the night, all of our parents drinking and singing tunes from the fifties, "Dream... dream, dream, dream."
I miss those days. I miss baseball. I miss McDonald’s.
Prayer:
Lord, when all of this has finally passed.
And the curfews and quarantines are lifted.
When the sands of our lives have shifted back.
And settled on the banks we were gifted.
In a restaurant, with friends or family all around.
McMuffins, hash-browns, and kids way too loud.
The Lord's wonder displayed on a Saturday morning.
Soul, by time and friendship, and God's grace, lifted.
Like it never even happened.
Back to normal.
An Idea:
Next time you are about to go through the drive-through (post-quarantine of course:), go inside instead. Order your meal. Talk with your family. Listen to the conversations around you. And enjoy the simple pleasures of being out in the world. Drinking your coffee. Laughing, face to face. And eating your delicious McMuffin.
Here's the story of one of the last times I ate at a restaurant, 'pre-apocalypse'. Before 'social distancing' was introduced into our collective vocabulary. I know it's only been a week, but I already miss the simple things I used to take for granted, like: not cooking, not reheating leftovers, not consuming endless turkey sandwiches. What I'm trying to say is, I miss eating at McDonald's. 😊
Just the other day, I stopped to get breakfast at my favorite "tastes so good but hurts so bad" restaurant, McDonald's. I ventured inside, the drive-through was even more backed up than usual for a Saturday morning. Don't ask me how I know this...
Just the other day, I stopped to get breakfast at my favorite "tastes so good but hurts so bad" restaurant, McDonald's. I ventured inside, the drive-through was even more backed up than usual for a Saturday morning. Don't ask me how I know this...
Sitting down to eat, I heard a bunch of old men talking. The subject; baseball. They were all in their 80s. Drinking their coffee. Telling their stories. It was around 9:45 am. Their one appointment for the day.
As I listened, I was reminded of a time gone by. A time when baseball was still America's sport. Everyone loved football and basketball but every little boy played baseball. The players, our heroes, were household names and larger than life: Kirby Puckett, Darryl Strawberry, Pete Rose, Nolan Ryan, Mike Schmidt. The 1980's were still the Baseball Years.
That's why I love McDonald's. The old and wise people of our communities gather to keep alive the memories of their childhood. They don't need trendy coffee shops. They are happy with their friends, cheap coffee, and Egg McMuffins, reminiscing about old Hawaii.
Maybe one day, years from now, I'll be sitting around McDonald's with my friends, talking about my little league years: How I never made all-stars, not even once. How I played catcher because I was tough, even though I was small. How we used to potluck every Saturday after the game, long into the night, all of our parents drinking and singing tunes from the fifties, "Dream... dream, dream, dream."
I miss those days. I miss baseball. I miss McDonald’s.
As I listened, I was reminded of a time gone by. A time when baseball was still America's sport. Everyone loved football and basketball but every little boy played baseball. The players, our heroes, were household names and larger than life: Kirby Puckett, Darryl Strawberry, Pete Rose, Nolan Ryan, Mike Schmidt. The 1980's were still the Baseball Years.
That's why I love McDonald's. The old and wise people of our communities gather to keep alive the memories of their childhood. They don't need trendy coffee shops. They are happy with their friends, cheap coffee, and Egg McMuffins, reminiscing about old Hawaii.
Maybe one day, years from now, I'll be sitting around McDonald's with my friends, talking about my little league years: How I never made all-stars, not even once. How I played catcher because I was tough, even though I was small. How we used to potluck every Saturday after the game, long into the night, all of our parents drinking and singing tunes from the fifties, "Dream... dream, dream, dream."
I miss those days. I miss baseball. I miss McDonald’s.
Prayer:
Lord, when all of this has finally passed.
And the curfews and quarantines are lifted.
When the sands of our lives have shifted back.
And settled on the banks we were gifted.
In a restaurant, with friends or family all around.
McMuffins, hash-browns, and kids way too loud.
The Lord's wonder displayed on a Saturday morning.
Soul, by time and friendship, and God's grace, lifted.
Like it never even happened.
Back to normal.
An Idea:
Next time you are about to go through the drive-through (post-quarantine of course:), go inside instead. Order your meal. Talk with your family. Listen to the conversations around you. And enjoy the simple pleasures of being out in the world. Drinking your coffee. Laughing, face to face. And eating your delicious McMuffin.
Back to normal.
An Idea:
Next time you are about to go through the drive-through (post-quarantine of course:), go inside instead. Order your meal. Talk with your family. Listen to the conversations around you. And enjoy the simple pleasures of being out in the world. Drinking your coffee. Laughing, face to face. And eating your delicious McMuffin.
Thank you for your reflections and your prayer Ben! Stay safe.
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