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^“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”  1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (ESV)

After work one Friday, I picked up my oldest grandson for the weekend. We had plans to visit my brother out of town, just the two of us.

He climbed into the car with his bag, and I said, “Preston, we’ll grab some supper before we leave town. What would you like to eat?”

At age eleven, I expected the usual answer—fast food burgers and fries. But he paused, thinking it over. Then he surprised me. “I’d like to go to a real restaurant,” he said, “where we can sit at a table and have somebody serve us.”

I smiled. That wasn’t what I expected at all. I quickly ran through a few options—somewhere kid-friendly, with waiters, but not too expensive—and suggested a place like Denny’s or Shoney’s. He liked that idea.

We found a restaurant, went in, and were shown to a table. The waiter brought menus. He was warm and friendly, joking with us, and he seemed to take a special liking to Preston.

When we were ready to order, I chose the meatloaf plate. Preston ordered…oatmeal.

Oatmeal? For dinner?

I have to admit, I felt a little disappointed for him. Out of everything on the menu—burgers, chicken, spaghetti—that was what he chose? I almost tried to steer him toward something else, but I held back. Sometimes it’s best to let people make their own choices.

A few minutes later, the waiter returned with our food. He set my plate down, then placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of Preston. But he didn’t stop there. One by one, he arranged small glass bowls around it—brown sugar, nuts, sliced strawberries, a sprinkle of cinnamon—and a little pitcher of milk.

Preston’s face lit up. He was over-the-top delighted.

Carefully, he mixed in each topping, chatting about what a fine job the waiter had done and how wonderful everything looked. His joy was contagious.

I glanced down at my meatloaf and mashed potatoes and, I’ll admit, wished I had ordered oatmeal.

We bowed our heads to give thanks, and I found myself especially grateful—not just for the food, but for Preston’s thankful heart.

When the waiter brought the check, Preston made a point to compliment him on his service. They joked together for a moment.

When he left with our empty plates, Preston asked me if he could help figure the tip. I don’t remember the exact amount, but I do remember this—it was generous.

That simple meal turned into something special. Yes, the extra touches made a difference. But what stayed with me was something deeper: the quiet beauty of appreciation.

A grateful heart has a way of transforming even the most ordinary moments into gifts.

“Dear Father, thank you for revealing Yourself through the heart of a child. Help us to remember, in good times and bad, that consciously appreciating the things around us – counting our blessings – is pleasing to You and makes life more enjoyable.”

 For His Gory

Cherie Harbridge Williams (www.cherieharbridgewilliams.com)
TRBC Women’s Life