This article was originally published in The World Invader: Newsletter for Global Outreach Developments, Int’l, Issue 16, June 2004. You can read the edition in its entirety here.

The day after Gregg and the interns left for Kenya, I drove through Wendy’s to grab lunch.  I returned to work later realizing that the cashier charged my Visa card 30 extra dollars by accident.  I drove back to reconcile the situation.  I walked in and waited behind two customers in line ahead of me.   

The young woman behind the register was Hispanic and spoke pretty broken English.  The first woman customer spoke rudely and impatiently to this poor employee who “I could see” was doing her best to politely get the complicated order right.  The employee began speaking in Spanish to her coworker to assure they understood the order she was placing.  The woman turned to talk to the customer behind her about the girl as she was pouring their drinks.  She was making a big deal about how, “These Spanish people are so rude when they talk their own language right in front of you, and they know you have no idea what they are saying.  That’s really horrible customer service.”  Then she began mocking the Vietnamese ladies that do her nails and how they do the same thing and is it just wrong and annoying.  Then both the women customers, along with the employee’s own manager began mocking and chuckling out loud.

Then the rude woman customer comforted the manager with a chuckling “May the good Lord bless you and give you strength for working with these people.”  Then they broke out in cold, loud laugher and even looked to me to join in.  I felt so sick.  I wanted to yell at them all so badly, and I am not even sure what would have come out.  Then their conversation steered from mocking and ridicule to, “Oh where do you go to church?”  The rude woman customer began talking about how wonderful her church and pastor were and passed the other customer a card, inviting her to come.  In the middle of all this, she asked the employee if she knew what she was doing and ruthlessly “quizzed” her on the order.  Now I was ready to puke.  I just stood there in shock steadily watching the Hispanic woman shuffling to get their order together for them. 

I felt so much sorrow for everyone involved.  I just knew I had to do something.  When I finally got up to the counter, the manager greeted me and addressed my issue with being overcharged; which I could care less about at that point.  I was beginning to understand why the Lord had my card overcharged in the first place.  He was calling me to see from above.  It took her 10 minutes to figure out what happened and explain it to me.  As I waited, my eyes never left the Hispanic woman behind the counter.  Then I just felt the Lord tell me to encourage her.  After fumbling through my thoughts and broken Spanish phrases, I knew what I had to say to her, and I was just waiting for a good opportunity.  She was moving and working on something constantly so it was hard to grab her attention.  Once my situation was resolved, I stood there for about 5 seconds longer and ordered a frosty so that I could get a moment with her.  Finally, as she was walking to the back I stopped her, looked her square in her hard-working eyes, and uttered a weak, “Perdon, Quiero decir tu eres Bueno Trabajo.” (which literally mean, “Excuse me, I want to say, you are good work.”)  I was not sure that she understood what I meant to say until she shyly cracked a smile and responded with a quiet, “Gracias”.  Then I boldly said, “Dios le bendiga” (because I knew that one: it means “God bless you”) and her entire face lit up with a smile. Without trying, I genuinely returned a smile and prayed that she felt the Lord love her through me.

I barely got out the door before I broke out into tears just weeping.  I wept in my car just feeling the Lord’s broken heart, and now my heart for people; both the mistreated and the mean people.  I was so overwhelmed with what I felt and I knew it was God’s Spirit.  I knew I wasn’t the same Tara because the old Tara would have stayed silent through that entire episode and would have safely, comfortably walked out licking the frosty off her face, unchanged and unaffected.  Nah-uh, not this time!  Nothing could have kept me from speaking out.  I was so compelled by God’s love in me and for me that any fear or pride lay powerless, as I reached out; and just like with Gene, God reached back and I encountered Him.