Always
We went on walking through the streets, though the day was windy enough that the clothes fell from their hangers, and a tent lifted up and away from the tables it was meant to cover. It was warm enough though, cooler than last week but lacking the crispness of true autumn. So, when we arrived, we were content to stand outside the restaurant and wait for the proper time. Eventually the minutes became 00 and the hour 11, and the server came to the door to let us in. It took some time to open the door. She had to unlock the lock, remove the chains, and turn the final deadbolt. It was a procedure that made clear the fear that lay behind those doors.
She wore purple sneakers and black pants, and quietly inquired about what we would like. We quietly replied with our requests, wearing everyday smiles. Then we returned to our conversation. Lunch as the only patrons in the restaurant was unhurried. Our server sat at the bar filling condiment jars while we ate tofu and talked. Nothing special seemed to be happening.
Yet when she brought the check, our server also brought a plate of desserts made in the Thai style for which this establishment is known. “No charge” she said. And we marveled, “how kind.” Then she added, “No charge for any of it, the food.” Oh my what kindness!
It seemed clear that this was a big gift for to give. This gesture was certainly not insignificant. So I asked whether she was giving this gift herself, or whether there were others for whom to chant as well. She shyly replied that it was hers alone. Standing, palms together in a gesture of respect called “anjali,” I chanted a traditional Pali blessing, truly making an effort to express my appreciation. She stood, her eyes cast downward, her hands echoing the respect. She smiled as I shared words of the spiritual tradition of her home country. All the while I noticed there was a man standing behind her, at the back of the restaurant, also holding his hands in anjali.
Learning that lunch was a gift was a special moment, one that suddenly blossomed even further. As I sat down to a bit of the sweets, the server returned to our table. Smilingly she announced that the food would always be free to me here, that I could come and obtain a meal anytime. She said, “he said so,” and nodded to the man that was still standing aloof and with hands still in anjali. He stepped forward a bit, nodded, assured me that I would always be welcome. Her generosity had inspired his generosity.
I put my hand on my heart to demonstrate the place where I was touched by these two people. I thanked them both. We don’t even know each other’s names. Yet now we share a unique bond, one that is based in the wisdom of generosity and kindness. These folks, who are from a country where women have been denied the ordained form of Buddhism for centuries, were happy to give me the gift of nourishment and the promise of nourishment in the future. Surely we will always be nourished by this generosity. Surely we will always be blessed by the gifts that will follow from such kindness. Always.