Serenity Tree Reminder

I want this tree to remind me that serenity is a choice.

Mom and I were at a restaurant today.

She had a hankering for pancakes with strawberries 
and whipped cream.

The waitress was young and as it was the second time 

she had waited on us recently, 
we knew that she was not especially fast.  

We placed our orders and then, we waited. 

And we waited.  And we waited some more.

Finally, another waitress saw us looking around 
and came over to explain.

She said that our waitress was "having a melt-down."

Then we saw a table of several adults who got up and walked out without eating, making loud comments on their way.

A few minutes later our waitress walked by, 
red-eyed and sad-faced.

(Our food, however, was still missing in action).

Eventually, the manager brought our food out.  
And everything was cold.

Cold pancakes.  Cold eggs.  Cold toast.  Cold hash browns.

But all I could see were the eyes of that young waitress.

And then I asked myself, "What if that little waitress 
was one of my granddaughters?"

It was then that this foreign thought came to me:

"I may have cold food, but I need not have a cold heart, too."

And that is how God spoke to my heart this morning.  

It had to be Him.  Such an attitude is not second-nature for me.

P. S.

We thanked our waitress, verbally, for her service, 
and then we left a larger tip than usual.
Her sad eyes lit up.

It made me feel good to know that it was within our power 
to make her day a little better.
I'm going to print out a copy of my "Serenity Tree"

 and place it in my wallet.
I hope it will help me to recall this morning's events
the next time things don't go perfectly.
I know that I'll need to be reminded again
that serenity is a choice.
As is kindness.

(Photo taken at Eagle Landing Golf Course - 22 March 2011)