Jesus in Yogurtland


You never know where you might find the love of Jesus. It could be anywhere - even in Yogurtland.

We just returned home from visiting our middle son Blaine at college.  It was such a good visit!  Oh, to kiss the cheek of my son!  Blaine had told us about a place called Yogurtland that he really liked and thought I’d really like.  OK.  Really love.  He was right!  It is a frozen yogurt paradise!

We went three times in two days.  I have officially had my frozen yogurt fix for quite some time.

So the first time we go, we brought three of Blaine’s new friends with us and as is my custom, I head first to the bathroom which is hiding at the way back of the store.  The men’s room had a sign on it saying it’s broken and I run into one of my son’s friends waiting to use the facilities looking longingly at the women’s restroom door.  I open the women’s bathroom to test the all clear and open it on a man with his back to me, doing what he needed to.  Quickly I close the door and tell his friend what happened.  He finds this very funny and we both crack up.  Then he says, “Here, let me stand in front of you and he’ll think it was me.”  He was so quick to say that – so considerate.  I thanked him.  Then the guy comes out.  Turns out he is really, really drunk.  He challenges the young man to make sure he was next in line.  I assure him he was and wait.

The man begins to talk to me incoherently in a really loud voice, unsteady on his feet and I am not quite sure what to do.  I know that feeling well.  How to love here?  What to do?  Jesus?  Then it’s my turn to use the facilities.

When I come out, my young friend has gotten the inebriated guy a frozen yogurt sample.  He is loving it.  He wants some more.  He is getting louder.  He becomes more and more animated.  He starts going up to nearby tables and offering customers unintelligable pearls of wisdom and shots of vodka.  I go look to see if there is a manager to help out here before a scene erupts and the guy ends up in jail.

When I walk back to where we were, I see something I hope to not forget.  My son’s friend, 18 years old, is holding two large samples of frozen yogurt in each hand luring the man out of the restaurant and out of trouble.  In his eyes, I see the kindness of Jesus and the longing to do well by the man in an uncomfortable and tenuous situation.  He leads the guy out like the Pied Piper.

I didn’t know what to do but he did.  He loved him.

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