My friend Hardy Clemmons recently passed on a story which he received from his friend Dan Boling. The story, like all good stories, has a surplus of meaning. It overflows with multiple truths. The story is told in first person by an acquaintance of Dan’s.
Last week I took my children to a restaurant. My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace. As we bowed our heads he said, “God is good. God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And liberty and justice for all! Amen!”
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman remark, “That’s what’s wrong with this country. Kids today don’t even know how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!”
Hearing this, my son burst into tears and asked me, “Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?” As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not made at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table. He winked at my son and said, “I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.”
“Really?” my son asked. “Cross my heart,” the man said. Then in a theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark has started this whole thing), “Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.”
Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment and then did something I will remember the rest of my life. He picked up his sundae and without a word walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, “Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.”
The story is rich with parabolic truth. Potentially, each character provides a mirror in which to see ourselves or a lens through which to see others: the simple faith and Christ-like grace of the boy, the obnoxious and destructive piety of the woman, the concern of the mother, the wisdom of the older gentleman.
I am especially struck by the boy’s gracious response. Instead of seeing the woman’s myopic cruelty, he saw her need. She needed something, he must have reasoned, that would be good for her soul. When I first read the story, I wanted to give the woman what she deserved. (Surely you can imagine some things she deserved.) Instead, the boy gave her what she needed whether she recognized it or not. I suspect it was good for her soul.
The next time I find myself taking the journey too seriously, I think I’ll stop and have some ice cream. Better yet, I’ll pause to remember the boy who sacrificed the gift for which he had prayed because it was good for another’s soul.