I used to work at Red Lobster. I bussed the tables, I washed the dishes, and sometimes I worked in the Alley.

The Alley is a busy, crazy place. The cooks would prepare the food, put it on a plate, and then push it over a counter to where I was. I would dress the plates accordingly: lobster got butter sauce, shrimp got marinara, crab legs got butter sauce and a lemon (or something like that). And every plate got a piece of garlic toast.

This doesn't sound too difficult, but imagine a busy Friday night. Four cooks are shoving plates at you, waiters & waitresses are yelling for their orders, and as soon as you dress the front plates (all 9 or 10 of them), a new row is pushed forward. You are frantic, and it doesn't stop for four or five hours.

So I sang.

Shouts and tempers were flying around me. Dishes clattered to the floor. Another curse. And here come more dishes.

Inside I was calm, and quiet.

And as my hands worked quickly, my mind was standing before the Lord. I saw the sons and daughters of God standing before the Lord. Their robes were white. Crowns were on their heads. Angels sang.

It was brief. Too brief. Too happy. My eyes teared up.

And I put another sprig of parsley on a plate.