I remember I was sitting in a restaurant one scorching hot summer afternoon, grateful for a cool room and a good meal.

A gentleman walked in a few minutes after me and sat at a table nearby. Within seconds, his body odor began to fill the dining area, especially the section where I was sitting.

It was lunchtime, and the restaurant was fairly busy. Almost immediately, the grumbling began. People made faces, whispered to one another, and offered comments loud enough for everyone around them to hear.

As I sat there, I looked at the man who had just walked in.

He was older, and there was something gentle about him. He smiled at people and gave a slight nod as he passed. By the appearance of his clothes and the condition of his hair, it looked as though he had probably been working outside for most of the day.

As much as I tried to ignore it, the truth was that he did smell.

The older man did not seem to pay attention to the remarks being made around him. He quietly looked through the menu, politely placed his order with the waitress, and sipped the lemon water sitting in front of him.

Meanwhile, several people around him continued making sure everyone knew that their meal had somehow been ruined by his presence.

Still, the man sat quietly and patiently, waiting for his food.

I was only a couple of tables away, and although there were not many other places available for him to sit, I found myself grateful that he had come in when he did and sat where he did.

Not because I enjoyed the smell, but because I was able to witness how quickly people reacted to him.

It was alarming how easily the rude comments began to travel through the room. But what was even more noticeable was his lack of reaction to them.

At that point, I was about halfway finished with my meal. The smell was certainly unpleasant, but I was still able to enjoy what I was eating.

Yet I kept finding myself drawn to this man who was sitting there alone, quietly waiting for his food.

I decided that I would use the restroom, and on my way back to my table, I would stop and speak to him. Since his meal had not yet arrived, I thought I might have a brief opportunity to visit with him and hopefully help him feel a little more welcome.

As I passed his table, I stopped and asked him how his day was going. He slowly lifted his head, smiled, and told me it was going just fine.

I asked if he had been working in the fields that day.

He nodded and explained that his son, who normally helped him, had not been able to assist him for the past couple of days. He had been working alone and needed to grab something quick to eat because his wife was unable to bring him lunch that day.

As our conversation continued, I learned that his son’s wife was in the hospital. She had recently given birth and was experiencing some complications, so his son needed to remain there with her.

I told him I was sorry to hear that and that I hoped everything would be all right.

He smiled and calmly assured me, “All will be fine.”

He then explained that his own wife was at home caring for his son’s other children. That was why she had been unable to bring lunch to him.

He said the restaurant was a blessing because it allowed him to get something to eat quickly and return to the fields.

Just as he finished telling me this, his food arrived.

I thanked him for taking a few minutes to visit with me. I told him I hoped everything went well for his family and wished him the best for the rest of his day.

He gently nodded and said again, “All will be fine.”

As I returned to my table, the complaints from the surrounding tables had mostly stopped, although the smell remained.

While I finished my meal, I thought about how physically and emotionally tired that man must have been.

He had been working alone. His daughter-in-law was in the hospital. His son was worried about his wife. His own wife was caring for the grandchildren. Yet he still smiled, spoke kindly, and willingly gave a few minutes of his time to a stranger.

Had I not spoken to him, I never would have understood why he chose to be in that restaurant that day. I would have only known that he smelled.

That experience reminded me how quickly we judge people without knowing their story.

We often focus on what someone did and how it affected us. We notice their attitude, their appearance, their mistake, or the inconvenience they caused us.

But we do not always stop to consider what happened before that moment.

We know why we do what we do. We understand the stress we were under, the choices we had available, and the events that shaped our own response.

Yet when it comes to someone else, we often judge the action without understanding the story behind it.

We see this constantly on social media.

People freely point out the wrongs of others, often with little understanding of what actually happened. We have become so comfortable exposing another person’s failures that we sometimes lose the ability to recognize our own.

That is where the real danger begins.

The people in that restaurant saw a man whose smell was interfering with their lunch.

They did not see a father trying to support his son. They did not see a grandfather whose wife was caring for their grandchildren. They did not see a hardworking man doing his best to finish the work that still needed to be done.

They only saw the small part of his story that inconvenienced them.

Maybe, had they known what he was carrying, they would have understood. Maybe someone would have offered him a kind word or even paid for his meal.

But they never gave themselves the opportunity to know.

They judged before they considered.

Understanding is a choice.

We can choose to react only to what we see, or we can remind ourselves that every person is shaped by experiences, hardships, responsibilities, fears, and hopes that we may know nothing about.

That does not mean every action is acceptable. It does not mean there should never be accountability.

It simply means judgment should not be our first response.

Some things are better left for God to sort through.

The way others react to us does not always require a response either.

The old man ignored the negative chatter around him, yet he responded warmly when someone approached him with genuine interest.

There was a quiet strength in that.

All I know is that the world could use more people like the old man who sat in that restaurant.

People who remain patient when others are unkind. People who do not feel the need to respond to every negative comment. People who are grateful for what is available to them, even when life is not going as planned. People who still make time to speak kindly to a stranger, even while carrying burdens of their own.

These are the qualities we should teach our children, but they are also the qualities we must continue teaching ourselves.

Teach them to be patient. Teach them to be kind. Teach them not to allow the negative voices around them to determine who they become. Teach them to ask questions before drawing conclusions. Teach them to do the best they can with the choices available to them. Teach them to be grateful for what they have rather than consumed by what they lack.

Most importantly, teach them to remember that every person they encounter has a story they may know nothing about.

Practice to Cultivate

The next time someone frustrates you, inconveniences you, or behaves in a way you do not understand, resist the temptation to immediately decide what their actions say about who they are.

Instead, ask yourself one simple question:

What might I not know?

You may never learn their story. You may never understand what happened earlier that day, what they are carrying home with them, who they are trying to care for, or what choices were available to them in that moment.

And understanding does not mean excusing everything another person does.

It simply means remembering that what we can see is rarely everything there is to know.

Sometimes a little patience gives us enough time to see another person differently.

Sometimes a kind word gives them the opportunity to tell us their story.

And sometimes, before deciding what we think about someone else, we simply need to give ourselves the opportunity to know.

‘Well Rooted’ is written by Jeremy Elliott. Elliott owns a lawncare business and lives in the Great Bend area.