Tell your story

Today Leah and I decided to take the day off from my work at home and her homeschooling studies, and just have fun. First, we ate lunch at one of the new restaurants in town, Angelo’s Italian Restaurant, then Leah got her hair trimmed, and we wrapped up the day with eating a Baskin Robbins ice cream and watching the movie Robin Hood (starring Russell Crowe – one of my favorite actors), with Ray at home.

From the outside, Angelo’s Italian Restaurant looks like a small mom-and-pop-style diner, and inside there were retro 1950’s counter and stools as well as booths, where we could sit. The waiter was a red-haired teen boy, tall and slender like a telephone pole, who smiled cheerfully at us as he gave us our menus.

I ordered a salad as an appetizer and Leah and I both ordered the fettuccine alfredo with grilled chicken and garlic bread (which was actually garlic toast).

After we ate, I went to pay the bill and spoke briefly to the owner. “Are you Italian?” I asked, curiously. This small town is not known for its ethnic restaurants!  He spoke one sentence of Italian, smiled and shook his head no, and pointed to a black and white picture, hanging on a wall in back of him.

“That’s my father-in-law,” he said. “He was Italian. He was Angelo.” Then he continued.

“But after I married, I had a son. He wanted to be an Italian chef. So we bought him the aprons and the knives, everything to get him ready to be a good Italian chef.”

The owner paused a moment, and I saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. “But he died when he was 22 years old in a car accident. I am not yet ready to be retired. So I decided before retiring to open a restaurant, an Italian restaurant in memory and honor of my son. Now he has his Italian restaurant.”

I don’t know why the owner didn’t name the restaurant after his son, instead of his father-in-law, but maybe it would have just been too painful to do that. Of course, I told him how sorry I was to hear of his loss. He thanked me for coming in today, and Leah and I left for the hair salon. But the conversation took me aback, and made me think.

When I die, will my dreams die with me?

If I had never asked the owner if he was Italian, he would have never told me his powerful story.

You have an incredible story to tell that someone needs to hear. You have a testimony from God. Are you sharing it with others?

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