I’ve met people who barely talk about God but treat others with love, and I’ve met people who never miss church but don’t know how to treat people right.
I finally stopped going back to my favorite spot.
Not because I stopped loving the food, but because it felt like the care was gone. The meals started arriving cold, sometimes already touched, like no one really paid attention to what they were sending out. I kept telling myself, “maybe next time will be different,” but it never was.
And that’s the hard part, you remember how good it used to be, how worth it it once felt. But eventually you get tired of hoping. Tired of showing up and leaving a little disappointed every time.
So you stop making excuses for it and accept that it’s changed. I’ll still glance at the menu now and then, but I won’t be going back.