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Several years ago following the closing of my local men’s shop, I found myself needing a new suit.

While in Nashville for doctor’s appointment, I noticed a national menswear location having a sale nearby.

I was in my mid-20s, several friends were marrying in the coming months, and I needed to make my purchase soon.

Upon entering, I spotted an older man who appeared the stereotype of a tailor- tape measure around his neck, reading glasses perched on his nose, and a determined look on his face.

The store was empty of other customers, so I walked up, and briefly explained I didn’t wear a suit often, but I was looking for something simple for funerals, weddings, and special occasions.

Looking me up and down, he responded, “Well, do you prefer the Asian style cut or more of a European fit?”

He could tell I did not know the difference, and it seemed to give him joy to watch me look unsure.

“I am not sure. Just simple and black and that fits well I think,” I finally answered.

“Unless you know what you want, I can’t help you. Look around if you want,” he said and went back to folding shirts.

While this was a relatively minor incident, it made me feel small, unwelcome, and foolish. I was a most willing customer, but for whatever reason, he did not see me, listen to me, or do anything helpful- instead, he left me feeling that I was not worthy of his time, energy, or effort.

Because he did not make any effort to listen or truly help, he missed an opportunity to not only make a sale, but to show common courtesy.

And I was still without a suit.

A rival chain store was nearby, so I stopped there. As I entered, I met William.

William also had the tape measure and reading glasses, but he had a smile, warmth, and questions.

He asked what I was looking for, where I lived, what I did for a living, how often I wore a suit, how long I had been in ministry, how soon I would need the suit if it required alterations.

Because of a seasonal markdown, I could actually buy two suits with my budget, and he advised me to do the basic black I needed, but also a more youthful brown.

He spent well over an hour with me- measuring, adjusting, and giving me time to consider options and styles. I mentioned my plans to a wedding the next weekend, and he offered to have any alterations done quickly so I would not have to make another trip to Nashville.

I drove home that day with not only the clothes I needed, but with more confidence, a sense of being heard and helped, and a great impression of that man and his store.

Now years later, I still have “William the Suit Guy” saved in my phone, and I have shopped with that company several times since.

Small encounters matter a great deal.

People we encounter every day may appear to have widely differing needs, but each person wants to feel seen, appreciated, and valued.

For all I know the man at the first store was just having a bad day, but I still remember how I felt when I walked out of his store and the stark contrast when I left after my time with William a few hours later.

While person’s faith must be grounded in truth and not based on feelings alone, how we choose to respond when people ask us about our faith will either welcome conversations or will serve to shut down even the most eager, curious people.

I pray that our hearts will be more attuned to hear what people are truly saying, and our words and actions might point them to our Lord who loves, listens, and truly cares about each person.