He was sitting there in a booth near the window at my favourite breakfast place. There was something about him that caught

my attention. But there’s something special about every person I do this for. I buy them their breakfast anonymously.

It started just after my dad passed away. I was travelling and decided to stop on the road for breakfast. Off to my right was an elderly man who had come in right after me. I was lonely and wishing my dad was still here — and that man looked so much like him. Same height, same build and walk. I decided right then to secretly pick up his check.

“Just tell him he reminded me of my dad,” I told the cashier. I paid for his meal and went on my way feeling a little bit happier. Since then, every once in a while I hear a voice inside me and I listen to it. I’m usually directed to an individual quietly sitting alone in a booth. Age is not a factor, for I have picked up the tab for young and old alike.

I don’t always hear the voice. The voice I speak of is one that also speaks to you. It’s a quiet voice that speaks of compassion. I argue with it sometimes. “Oh, no! You’ve got to be kidding. You want me to do what?” Most of the time the voice wins. I’ve come to trust it, knowing there is a reason for everything. Well, on this particular day, the man in the diner seemed down in his spirit. Almost like he was wondering why he was here. I watched him daydreaming and staring out of the window for long periods of time. —Beliefnet.com