One of the great gifts of the South is Waffle House. Every time I find myself back "down South," as they say, my Waffle House radar is activated. Open 24 hours a day, Waffle House serves as a safe harbor in an often unpredictable world. People come in at all hours, for all sorts of reasons, and each one of them has a story to tell.

It's early Friday morning, and here I sit in a Waffle House. Some are here after a long night shift, and others getting ready to start their day. A woman sits alone at the counter, meticulously wiping it down as she prepares her glass of sweet tea, and awaiting her scrambled eggs and hashbrowns. The waitress approaches me with a lightness in her step and asks, "Can I get you some coffee, honey?" I place my usual order, and she replies with a smile, "Ok, baby, we’ll have it right up for you." Moments later, faster than expected, the cook brings over my eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. "Here you go, sir. I hope it’s OK. Is that bacon too crispy? I’m happy to make more if it’s not right."

Before long, Lonni, the cook, and I strike up a conversation. I ask, "Do you mind if I make a video?"

This moment reminded me of a video I had made early in my sabbatical, also during an early morning at a Waffle House. Life comes full circle in these quiet, simple moments.

 We all have a story. We have dreams and people we love. We want to be happy. We want a good life and a better one for our children. We’re all just trying to make it in this world, and with a little dignity. Whether you're dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant or sitting in a booth at Waffle House, that’s not the point. It’s about living your life with the people you love, having a dream, and trying to make that dream come true.

 I pray that Trinity Church is a place where people can come as they are, with the truth of their lives, their hopes and dreams, fears and struggles, sadness and joy. A place where, together, we find a safe harbor, and even more so, a home. A home to ground and sustain us on this amazing, challenging, unpredictable, and blessed journey of life.

Peace and Blessings,

Paul

P.S. Just before I left, Lonni came over and said, "Hey, nice talking to you. One day, I want to go back to Michigan. I want to open a diner—like one of those 1950s vintage diners." I gave him my number and said, "I’ll pray for you. You’ll do it! And when you do, call me. Because I’m coming."