Life At The Lunch Counter

The stools were almost too high for me to climb on.
I remember the red leather.
I remember the chrome around the edge.
I remembered how they swiveled.

It was a treat to go there with my mother.
Sometimes it was for lunch if I happened to get out of school early.
Sometimes it was for no reason at all.
That was the best time; the no reason times; the “just to be together” times.

I would get my foot on the bar that acted as a footrest.
I would hoist myself up so that I could sit at the counter.
The counter top was green linoleum.
It always felt a bit sticky until the woman behind the counter wiped it down.

Everything about her movements was quick and efficient.
She was both waitress and short order cook all in one.
She had a hair net on her hair, for sanitary reasons, my mother said.
She had a blue uniform buttoned to her neck with a ruffle that made it more feminine.

She had a white apron with a handkerchief in the pocket.
The apron was amazingly clean for the amount of cooking she had to do.
She wrote on a small green note pad.
The orders were written in some kind of waitress shorthand.

She would write down our order and then rip the paper off the tablet.
In one quick movement she attached our order to a line that was above her work counter.
She could easily look up and see what each customer ordered.
She set out to make the grilled cheese or the tuna salad sandwich with precision.

When the order was complete she moved the paper from the line to a tall spindle.
The spindle reminded me of a spear.
She speared our order sheet and placed it on top of the other ones that she completed.
The lunch was served on heavy white dishes with a small napkin and fork to the right.

There was something about lunch at the counter that made the food more delicious.
My feet barely reached the footrest.
Any movement made my stool swivel.
My mother would give me a look that told me to sit still.

There would inevitably be one little girl or boy who swiveled.
Their mother did not give them a look.
They swiveled until their lunch came and then they swiveled when they were done.
There was always the boy that would go down the line and spin each counter stool.

The stools would all be in motion until the waitress told him to stop.
Stop spinning those stools or you won’t get your hot dog, I remember her saying.
After her reprimand, I never saw a boy hop up on the counter stool so fast.
Sometimes that same boy would pull napkins out of the silver dispenser.

As if the waitress had eyes in the back of her head, she turned around and caught him.
It was soon learned that good behavior was necessary if you wanted to get your lunch.
The waitress in the blue uniform buttoned to her neck with a ruffle meant business.
She ran a tight ship; she made a delicious lunch.

The highlight of our lunch at the counter was always the milk shake.
Black and White was how my mother ordered for us.
It was not too much chocolate, not too much vanilla; it was just right.
The waitress put just the right amount of ice cream and chocolate syrup in the glass.

The tall frosted glasses came after mixing the ingredients in the stainless steel cup.
It seemed like the waitress could make the milk shake with her eyes closed.
She expertly placed the stainless steel cup under the mixer.
She would tilt the cup in such a way so that the contents mixed perfectly.

I remember the sound as the mixer whirred.
I remember the anticipation.
The waitress would remove the stainless steel cup and begin to pour our milkshakes.
I watched the thick shake as it fell into the frosted glass.

The waitress would serve our milkshakes with a long spoon and a white straw.
I remember that getting the thick milkshake through the straw was a challenge.
Whatever was left, I ate with the long spoon.
Small pieces of frosted ice would fall from the glass onto the counter.

I can’t imagine a more perfect memory.
Life at the lunch counter.
Made to order.
The anticipation of the thing.

Hallelujah! For our Lord God Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and be glad and give Him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and His bride has made herself ready. Fine linen, bright and clean, was given her to wear…Then the angel said to me, “Write: Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!” And he added, “These are the true words of God.” (Revelation 19:6-9)

One day we will have a feast, not at a lunch counter but rather in heaven.
The Wedding Supper of the Lamb will be eaten with all God’s people from all time.
Except this feast doesn’t require you to be good enough to be served.
This feast requires One who was good enough so you can be served.

That One is The Lord Jesus.
He is the Servant Lord; He is the One who serves us at the feast.
He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and His name is the Word of God. (Revelation 19:13)
The anticipation of the thing.

One day.
All God’s people will be served at the feast.
Maranatha!
Come Lord Jesus!

 

2 responses to “Life At The Lunch Counter”

1. What great memories! You remember in such detail–amazing! I too look forward to our feasting with Jesus in heaven. It will be more wonderful than we can imagine!

   Reply

   • Sue,
     What a Day that will be!
     Gina

     Reply