Sir…Sir…Here is your cup for your drink… Oh, I am sorry. I was off in another world, I told the young high school girl working at Taco Villa at noon today. I went on to tell her that I ate there everyday with my friends, when we were in high school. I suspect she thought I needed to be committed somewhere. I was just a little too enthusiastic about eating at Taco Villa of all places. And I think she secretly wondered if Taco Villa actually existed that far back.

I went over to the booth near the window, where we I sat so many years ago with Marty and Ruben. Most days Elizabeth and Paula and Sheryl were with us too. And when were seniors Lisa became a part of that group. We piled into Marty’s 1973 Gran Prix or into my little Chevy. You could purchase a bean burrito and a medium drink for less than a dollar in those days. So that was my daily lunch diet for three consecutive years. McDonalds was across the street, but Taco Villa was our fast food establishment of choice for some reason. On the days we had money we went to Weigh a Lunch at Shakey’s Pizza on the other side of 50th street, but that was a rarity.

I ate my bean burrito alone today. I was actually grateful for the solitude. Tomorrow I am responsible for memorializing 23 classmates from Monterey’s Class of 1980. 90% of my thoughts are completed. It is not going to be long and drawn out, but it needs to meaningful. I could not seem to get the final few ideas together. For some odd reason the atmosphere in Taco Villa at noon today helped me get off high center. Inspiration finally hit home. I hurried back to the hotel before said inspiration vanished into thin air.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I received a call from one of the police officers I serve in Granbury. What has happened now, I wondered? The officer explained to me that a friend from high school and his young son had died very unexpectedly a few weeks ago. The circumstances surrounding the death were particularly tragic. My officer friend wondered about reaching out to his wife, who was a high school classmate. Will he even remember me, was the concern expressed. What is the fitting thing to do? Would it be good to send a message on facebook? The officer caught me at the just the right time…

Here is what I said: Reach out to your friend. Send her a message this week and send her another one a few weeks down the road. Show some interest in her. At some point, this young widow, who has also lost a child, is going to feel extremely lonely and abandoned. As her classmate, you may very well be the person who can serve her most effectively.

We ended up having about a 30 minute phone conversation. I think my friend is more inspired than ever to touch a grieving person with a heart of compassion. God’s timing is always a good thing! And as I hung up the phone, I felt more inspired than ever to prepare for a memorial service tomorrow afternoon, because I realized part of my job is to encourage all of us to do precisely what I nudged my officer friend to do. What would I have done without Taco Villa today?