We tried a new dessert place last Friday night. We’d been to the movies to celebrate the arrival of the weekend. It was the 7 p.m. show. At the theater we saw a bittersweet little tale that coaxed a few tears but ran too long. When we exited the theater the air was heavy and a hazy winter mist had settled in. It seemed too early to head home and so we set out to find a good hamburger.

We were undecided and wound up driving around a bit until we headed for a place familiar. But when I finally parked the car across the street from the hamburger joint, it was an unfamiliar little dessert place on the opposite corner that beckoned us inside. Warm glowing lights spilled illumination onto the sidewalk outside, while past the steamy windows a happy looking crowd sat in groups around tables covered with white table cloths and complimented with flickering candles.

We were game to try something new.

The place was busy, humming with what seemed like regular locals. Our waitress was delightful and her service excellent. But the crowd taxed the little serving staff and our wait was long. My order included a tall, wide mug of hot chocolate. It was served with a swirl of whipped cream and bits of chocolate sprinkles.

When it was time to get out the eyeglasses and do a quick look over the bill we were filled and happy and content. But our earlier wait had not gone unnoticed by management. They sent us off into the night with warm regards and a bag of complimentary scones - big buttery cranberry and blueberry scones textured and tempting and bathed in a golden yellow hue.

Little did our benefactors know how far their generosity would stretch. For two mornings those scones comprised our breakfast and one evening, our before bed treat. With a pad of butter to spread and a quick stint in the microwave, the complimentary scones fed and delighted and nurtured.

A simple act, a generous gesture, a thoughtful stance, they all are done presumably in the spirit of goodwill for that moment. But, indeed, the ripple effect of the thoughtful act or the complimentary gesture, knows little of its own bounds.

Sometimes I ponder over blessings and kindnesses, big and little, which I don’t remember being thankful for at the proper time.

Stopped for a traffic light the other day, I stared at the colorful windows of a new dentist’s office. The windows are covered with life-sized photos of young folks with big smiles and mouths full of perfect, even white teeth.

I was born with a mouth full of disorderly teeth that needed serious rearranging. Sometime in grammar school I was hauled off to the orthodontist’s office where the good and wise Dr. Chandler fitted me with a mouth full of wires and rubber bands and brackets. That was the beginning of a three-year snail paced odyssey which culminated in a mouth full of teeth in normal order.

My braces represented a huge financial investment for my folks. We were a cash only household operating out of a well-worn envelope in the top drawer of my Dad’s dresser. Each trip to Dr. Chandler involved a payment of $25. Only now can I imagine the dent that all those payments put in the monthly budget.

I had a happy and successful high school experience - above average from what I can tell. I think that my path would have been a lot different had my folks not made the effort and the sacrifice required to get me braces ala Dr. Chandler. And yet sitting here those many years later, I’m not certain if I ever acknowledged that sacrifice or offered up proper thanks.

Throughout life we cause ripples wherever we go. Sometimes good deeds get acknowledged in timely fashion. Some never get spoken of. It turns out, however, that the gratitude never affects the size, intent or integrity of the gift.