This is my mom’s story, not mine. I’m sharing it with her permission, because she and I share a belief that the most important truths often present themselves when we are not at our best.

My stepdad recently had knee surgery in the hospital where my mom works. She’d worked a stretch right up until his surgery, and after so many days in a row at the hospital working and then caring for my stepdad, she was physically and emotionally spent.

At some point, she had an opportunity to go grab a bite to eat, and had in mind exactly what she wanted: a warm, gooey grilled cheese sandwich with onion and tomato. She went down to the hospital café and placed her order. When her sandwich was ready, there was no tomato or onion. Upon inquiry, she was told “We don’t do that.” She replied that she regularly ordered the sandwich with tomato and onion on the evening shift. The man behind the counter was unmoved. He motioned over to the cold salad bar and told her to get a tomato there.

You know those times in life when everything feels out of control, and you’re just weary and overwhelmed, and so you control the things you can? This was one of those times. She walked away from the sandwich and headed to the diner across the street.

She was stopped on her way into the diner by a man who asked her to give him money for something to eat. Tired, hungry and frustrated, she said tightly, “You’ve caught me at the wrong time. I am not filled with human kindness right now,” and walked on.

When she got to the door, she encountered an elderly woman with a walker. It took a painfully long time for the woman to get through the door, and there were several opportunities for my mom to politely skirt around the woman and her walker, but she continued to stand there, holding the door open.

As she waited, she was hit hard by a powerful thought. “Who am I? Am I the person who snaps at an obviously hungry man, or am I the person who holds the door for an old lady with a walker?” There she was, pissed off that a cold tomato would congeal the cheese on her sandwich, rendering it unacceptable. And there was this man, who just wanted to eat something…anything.

After the elderly woman was safely through the door, my mom turned around and called to the man who asked her for money. She approached him and apologized humbly for her behavior. She then said, “I am going inside to get some lunch. If you’d like, I would be happy to buy you lunch, too.”

Together, they entered the restaurant. Wanting to minimize the man’s discomfort, she quickly explained to the restaurant host that both lunches would be on her.

If this were a scene in a movie, perhaps the two of them would sit together in a booth, swap stories and have some sort of meaningful exchange to move the plot forward. That’s not how it played out in real life; they sat separately. You might be wondering why they didn’t sit together. I didn’t ask her, but knowing my mom as I do, I am sure she felt letting him eat without the awkwardness of her presence offered him more dignity. He was entitled to eat in privacy and keep his own counsel. This man didn’t owe my mom his company or conversation. It wasn’t his responsibility to make my mom feel all warm and self-satisfied at doing a good deed. All she wanted was for him to eat a good meal, and for her to feel right in her own spirit.

This isn’t a movie. They aren’t best friends now. It’s likely their paths will never cross again. But she will never forget him.

As she told me the story, she said there were two big “takeaways.”

First, it was necessary for the café worker to be rude. If he had done her the kindness of making the sandwich as requested, she would not have crossed paths with the hungry man and the elderly woman. Sometimes, unpleasantness – in the form of people or circumstances – comes into our lives for a purpose.

The second takeaway was the importance of trying to maintain perspective. I think it’s even bigger than that. Every moment of every day of our lives, we choose who we are. We are only human; we will fail ourselves and we will fail others. Sometimes, though, life offers us a do-over.

If you get a chance at a do-over, take it.