On a road trip to California's breathtaking North Coast region, my husband Ken and I, my teenage daughter Lahre, and my nine-year-old son Shawn, stopped to have lunch and stretch our legs a bit.

    As we walked toward the 1 entrance, a man with an untidy beard and dirty hair jumped up from a nearby bench and opened the door for us. An old bike 2 with a sleeping bag and the rest of his 3rested against the bench, it was obvious that he was 4. But regardless of his 5, he greeted us as if we were his best friends, “Today's soup and sandwich special's a great deal.”

    Once inside, my teenager whispered to me, “Mom, he 6.” And Shawn asked questions about him, not quite understanding the 7 of a homeless person. Ken and I explained the best we could, telling the kids to look to the person underneath and within 8 the dirt and smell.

    With the windiest part of our trip just 9 us, the kids needed to take car-sick pills so I went back to the car to fetch them. As I 10 the front door, the “doorman” was opening it for an older couple, who rushed past him and didn't even acknowledge his 11. I let the couple12 first and then said a loud and gracious “thank you” to the doorman.

After going back inside, I asked our waitress, who was bringing the kids their dessert, to 13 one soup and sandwich special to our bill. Both the kids looked at me 14 —as we had already eaten but Ken knew exactly what I was doing.

    By this time, we had to get back on the road to stay on schedule. As we rounded the comer of the very full restaurant, the “doorman” was sitting at a table enjoying his 15. When seeing me, he jumped up and 16 his hand for a handshake. It was then that I17 he had tears in his eyes—tears of gratitude.

    18 we can't choose many things in life, we can choose when to show gratitude, and I was doing just that. Hopefully, when someone opens a door for Lahre and Shawn during their 19 through life, they will remember to say “20“ and have a great soup and sandwich special on the menu, too.