Books are divided into chapters. Plays are divided by acts. Football games are divided by quarters. Songs are divided by verses and music by bars. What about our lives, our actions, our words? How do we divide them?

I remember the last words my Grandmother spoke to me before passing. I remember the words I spoke as I delivered our 4th daughter. I remember lies spoken to me. I remember hateful looks given to me one last time. I remember a lot of “lasts”.

I retired last week. I had been at this location for almost nine years. I have a lot of memories; good and bad. The day I retired, my husband and I talked about those people I would miss the most. Unexpected tears began their decent as I mentioned the name of the customer I would miss the most.

God in all His loving kindness made sure she was my “final act” at work; that night.

Naomi* was my last customer. Earlier in the day I had shared with Mark about her and how differently the world and I see her.

Sadly, most of the world would not give Naomi a second look unless it was to ridicule. Naomi is unkempt in her appearance and aroma. She comes in late at night. Perhaps so less people have an opportunity to judge her. I don’t know her story. I don’t know her circumstances. I don’t need to. I can clearly see she is a child-of-God, just like me, in need of love and acceptance.

Fellow co-workers and I joked as my shift started about it being my last day and how I could finally “go off” on a customer. Retail is not easy and I have bitten my tongue too many times to count. We fantasize about how great it would feel to “put someone in their place” or “not take crap” from someone. Instead, I embraced every opportunity to thank my regular customers and beloved co-workers for being a part of my story.

The store was closed and many of us had gathered on the front end waiting on our final customers. Only two customers left. I directed the family I did not know into the other checkout, so I could serve Naomi one last time. She wrote a check and tried to hand me her driver’s license. I didn’t need it. After 9 years, I had it memorized.

After handing her the change, I walked over to her and put my hands on her shoulders. Through tears, I said, “Tonight is my last night with Publix and you are my last customer. I want to thank you for allowing me to serve you all of these years.” I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight as she cried on my shoulder. She cried and told me she didn’t like change. I cried.

I cried because we live in a cruel world that lacks love and compassion to those different from what we, in all our arrogance, say is “normal” and “acceptable”.

I thought of another’s “final act”. The man was dirty, beaten, bloody and the world was not holding back their hate and ugly words. The world still hates him. Despite the hate and ugliness, his “final act” was to say, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Luke 23:34

What will your final act be? Will your heart be divided between what you show the world and what God knows? Each day we have so many “last acts”. It doesn’t have to be something big and grandiose like a wedding, retirement, or even your very last words.

When you leave a restaurant, a job, a meeting, or a person, will your final “act” be one of love or hate?