Woke at the counter… Anywhere is good!
There’s a diner off old Route 66 where I sometimes stop when the road gets long. The coffee’s decent, the counter’s chipped, and the regulars know exactly how long to leave you alone before asking where you’re headed.
Last week, I was there again, same stool, same view of the pie case. A young waitress with a tired smile refilled my cup and told me they’d had a rush of tourists that morning. When she walked away, I noticed an older woman at the end of the counter counting change from a worn leather coin purse, whispering numbers under her breath like a prayer.
Woke at the counter, What Woke Really Means
She looked like someone’s grandmother, maybe mine. The kind of woman who probably used to bake pies for the church social and still tips exact change. When her order came, a slice of toast and coffee, I caught the waitress’s eye and said quietly, “Put it on mine.” She smiled that knowing diner smile. No fanfare, no announcement. Just done.
I left before the woman noticed, but not before scribbling a napkin note next to my check:
“The road can be hard. You got this.”
Just seven words, folded under the sugar shaker like a secret handshake for whoever needed it next. Driving away, I thought about how we’ve turned caring into something political. Somewhere along the way, helping people got renamed “being woke,” like empathy needed a rebrand. I don’t buy it. If paying for someone’s breakfast, changing a tire, or listening without judgment makes me “woke,” then I’ll wear that label like a badge and keep buying coffee.
Woke at the counter, it’s not a slogan
It’s not a slogan or a movement, it’s staying awake when it’s easier to look away. It’s noticing who’s struggling quietly, who’s holding things together with duct tape and prayer, and saying, “Not today, friend. I’ve got this one.”
We don’t all have deep pockets, but we all have something to give. Maybe it’s skipping a few drive-thru meals this week to buy groceries for the old couple in front of you. Maybe it’s carrying a jumper cable instead of judgment. Maybe it’s leaving a napkin note for a stranger who’s just barely hanging on.
You don’t have to fix the world. Just notice it.
Kindness doesn’t need a headline to matter
It’s the quiet work that happens when no one’s clapping, the extra cup poured, the chair held, the grocery bag carried. Out here, faith isn’t measured by how loud we talk about it but by how gently we live it. Every small act becomes a sermon in its own way, preached from the counter instead of a pulpit. Maybe that’s what this road is teaching me: the gospel isn’t always spoken. Sometimes it’s served with toast and coffee, offered by a stranger’s steady hands.
Route 66 Chaplain: Woke on the Road
For me, this is what it means to live as the Route 66 Chaplain, staying awake to grace, to grief, to each small miracle that shows up at the counter. Some folks call it woke; I call it paying attention. If the church can fit in a diner booth, then maybe there’s hope for all of us to share the table again.
✨ Roadside Reflection:
If kindness makes me “woke,” then wake me up twice. Because I’d rather live wide-eyed and present and be woke at the counter, buying coffee, changing tires, and writing napkin notes, than half asleep in a world that keeps pretending compassion’s controversial. The road is long, and people are weary. Let’s not pass each other by.
☕ Read more stories from the road and how to be woke at the counter:
Faith and Good Courage Journal
🎧 Listen to the
Faith and Good Courage Podcast or watch on
YouTube.
✨ Learn more about living kindness and courage:
Greater Good Science Center