Who deserves love? Really, in your estimation and in your thought process, who deserves to be loved? Does it go in levels? Like some deserve love more than others according to their worth, their good deeds, their looks? Before this situation happened, I would have told you that in my belief everyone deserves love equally. I would have told you that I believed that to my very core. However, in the events that transpired this one day I realized that this wasn’t really what my core belief was. My core belief was that you deserved love according to the certain standard I set up for you judged against what society would deem as appropriate behaviour and actions. I know that is a mouth full and I know you’re reading this and shaking your head at me and wondering how I could even possibly be saying these things and it is so against everything we have been taught as right and proper. See that’s just it, it goes against what you were “taught” but does it actually go against what your core belief actually is. I will tell you why I say these things.

One day my husband, my son, and I went out for supper. Jaret and I had driven in separate vehicles so my son and I beat Jaret to the restaurant. As my son, Judah, and I entered the restaurant we were assigned our table where we sat down and removed our jackets and waited on Jaret to arrive. There was a man and a woman about four booths away having supper. I noticed them immediately because the woman began yelling at me from across the restaurant. Now this may sound judgemental but it’s easy to do a quick assessment on someone and for the most part be accurate on your judgements. As the woman was talking to me, I did just that. My assessment was an old greasy looking man who was sitting with what was most definitely a prostitute. I am pretty sure everyone in the restaurant had come to this conclusion because I could see by the way they were being treated. Anyways, this woman began talking to me in very broken slurring type English, at first I thought she didn’t even speak English but sure enough she did. She was showing me her Jell-O and how excited she was to be having Jell-O for dessert. She also explained to me how Jell-O is good for your nails and it helps them grow. I acknowledged her and smiled and said a few polite words as to not seem rude. I however came to the conclusion that she was being disruptive and disturbing the others in the restaurant, so I turned my head away so she wouldn’t have any further conversation with me. I honestly thought that what I had done was acceptable and polite as to not disturb the peace of the other customers in the restaurant and furthermore if you were to ask me at that moment if I judged them, I would have told you, “Absolutely not!” So, Jaret showed up and I quickly filled him in on the details, pointed out the couple and my assessment of the ‘prostitute and the dirty old man.’
Now, this is where things change, this is where I think I could honestly say that I saw one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. There was another booth behind us that sat a couple who were probably in their 70’s, a great big man and a cute little wife. They had finished up supper and were getting ready to leave. The 70-year-old man walked over to the table where the prostitute and man sat and he asked, “So are you guys being good?” in only a way that a grandpa could. She looked at him sheepishly and shook her head, “No”. The 70-year-old man was not fazed by her response and went on to give them advice, “Well keep trying sweetie, watch your alcohol consumption because that will get you every time, but it looks like you guys are trying so that is a good thing.” They listened to him intently as he chatted and joked. Jaret and I sat and watched and argued about whether or not this elderly couple knew these people or not. It was then that the 70-year-old man said to them that he didn’t know them but came to the table because she (the prostitute) had seemed so sweet. He then asked the question, “Are you guys dating?” To which the man I referred to as greasy replied, “No she’s not that kind of girl,” Then the older man replied, “Well, Hun, you could be that kind of girl.” The older man’s wife continued to laugh and joke with them while the older man walked away and went and paid for their meal. As the older man returned he informed them of their paid for meals and with that they said their ‘goodbye’s’. Jaret and I sat their with our mouths wide open, in awe of such a caring selfless act we were so lucky to have watched. Our eyes turned back to the couple whose meals were paid for by a perfect stranger. There they were, sitting a little straighter than they were before, their eyes were gleaming, they looked so proud. Proud that they were noticed, proud that they were treated like decent human beings, and proud that someone would take the time to have a normal conversation with them instead of turn their heads away in embarrassment of them. That’s the moment that hit me like a dagger to the heart, the moment I realized that my love WAS conditional. That for some reason I thought I was given the right to decide who would be deserving of love, or at the very least I decided what level of love you would receive from me. I actually thought that my smile and short reply’s to her was showing love. I wasn’t rude. I was very polite. The fact remains, that if she could have read my thoughts they would have been anything but polite. I bet you anything that by my reserved demeanour she could pretty much guess what my thoughts were towards her.
I left that restaurant in complete self-reflection. How did I miss that? How did I miss a chance to show love? My heart has always gone out to prostitutes and I have always wanted to help them, but I guess I put restrictions on how I would help them. As long as I went into ‘their world’ and helped them, that would be acceptable, but God forbid they enter ‘my world’ and expect help or expect anything from me for that matter.
I think of that story with Jesus and the prostitute that came to wash his feet. The disciples were so upset about how this would look but Jesus gave no mind to it. He saw the heart; he saw the need for love, the need for acceptance. The disciples saw what she did for a living, what her ‘title’ was, not who she really was.

I did the same thing that day, I saw her ‘label’ not her heart. That lady that washed Jesus’ feet that day, she was so changed by his love that she followed him forever. What if one-act, one true act, of love shown to that couple that day, changed their lives forever. Maybe they left there and nothing changed, but I promise you that they won’t forget that exchange of love.
Crazy thing about love is that it changes every party involved. I know that because just watching the exchange of true love, changed my life.
I have realized that there are things in my life that are ugly too. Things that I have learned to keep hidden and not on display for all to see, but just because I have learned to keep my ugliness hidden, why would I judge someone else who has theirs on display for all to see. We all come from different walks of life, some worse than others, but that doesn’t change that every single one of us is on a hunt to find love. Who am I to decide who will receive it, and in what measure they will receive it. I would certainly not want someone to see my hidden ugliness and decide that it was to embarrassing for them to converse with me. I would choose the love that would have another human come over to me and despite my ugliness talk to me and see me for whom I really was, or for who I was meant to be. The kind of love that would reach out to me and not judge me but love me, really love me. So, because I would choose that love, I therefore will then choose to love that way.

I was privileged to see that act of love that day. I think God set that up if I were completely honest. I hope I never forget that lesson I learned. It was like a real Bible verse played out in front of my eyes, “Love one another, as I have loved you”