Grace-Or Lack Thereof--in the Grocery Store

 Even before Covid world, I stopped going into the grocery store very often. It just was too darn easy to order my groceries, pull up, and have them loaded right into my trunk. I told myself this was saving money as I wasn't impulse buying, and perhaps that is true. It also, however, disconnected me from grocery store reality.

Several weeks ago I had to go into the store as both pick-up and delivery options weren't available until the next day, and I was in need of a few essentials. It was a cold rainy day late in the afternoon. I pulled up, put on my mask, and ran from the parking lot into the store. Immediately I was annoyed at the many people not wearing masks. Just being honest here...

There was a time several years ago when running into the store would take little time as I knew where everything was. But alas, over the years, things get moved around, and what I thought would be a quick trip in was already beginning to take more time. Music was playing overhead sometimes interrupted by "special announcements," and I could hear several children either whining, talking very loudly, or flat out having screaming tantrums. I huffed and puffed wishing I had my AirPods. I would like to claim I was in sensory overload, but really I was just being a selfish jerk.

I filled my cart with what I needed and headed to check out. There was only one cashier and four self-checkouts open. And there were long lines. I waited in the self-checkout line which really isn't a line but rather a gaggle of people all vying for the next open register. A young woman with three screaming children pulled her cart into the milieu. One child was sitting in the cart with snot running out of his nose and down his face. One child was swinging around the cart knocking into other customers, and the third was shrilling proclaiming every five seconds how hungry she was. The woman was on her cell phone it sounded like making some sort of appointment. Needless to say, she was getting nasty looks from other customers. Out of sheer desperation or complete resignation, she grabbed three bags of m&m's off the shelf and handed them out. The volume immediately lowered. (I was, I must admit, quite grossed out by the now snotty m&m snack.) With the lowered volume, I could hear several other customers whispering about "parenting" and "giving in." I'm sure the young woman heard it as well.

Over the next several days, I couldn't stop thinking about that woman. I had been that woman, sort of. At first, I thought these things

• What was she doing taking her children to the grocery store at the arsenic hour? (That's what I call the hours betweeen 4:30pm and bedtime--you either want to take it or give it.)
• Why was she trying to make an appointment while shopping and juggling three kids?
• Why didn't she just leave the cart and try again another day? (I distinctly remember walking out of the grocery store in Athens with four screaming children as I apologized to the clerk who would have to reshelve the entire cartful of groceries.)

I kept thinking and realized how incredibly judgemental and self-righteous, not to mention privileged my thoughts were. I didn't have to take my children to the grocery store during those hours because I didn't work outside of the home. I could go during their "best behaved" hours or while they were in pre-school/school. Maybe this woman goes to work early and rushes to pick up kids before the dreaded late-fee pick-up every day. I had all day to make phone calls and appointments--but let's be honest, I have also been on the phone while shopping...  Maybe she was trying to make a doctor's appointment to get that runny nose treated. I think the thought that gets to me the most is, I could leave that grocery cart full of groceries and just go home because I had food already there. Maybe she didn't.

I don't know this woman's story because I didn't bother to stop and help. I didn't let her move in front of me. I didn't help unload her cart. And I didn't wipe the little boy's nose. Maybe she is just a give-in to every whim parent who doesn't manage her time well, or maybe she's just trying to do the best she can and could have used a smile, a helping hand, and a little compassion.

Dora the Explorer and Bar Evangelism

We were sitting in our regular spot at "The Spot." (That's what we call it...) No really, it's our spot--we even have a sign, but I digress...

Several tables down a woman sat by herself. She ordered a margarita and took one sip. Now here's where the truth is which isn't very flattering. My friend and I were making fun of her. I'd like to say in a nice way, and I suppose if you can make fun of someone in a nice way, we were. We just kept saying, "How can she not drink that? What is wrong with her? She's pretty lame." I get it not the nicest of people we were being. She ordered some food and the margarita just sat there. Periodically her phone would ring and she'd shout into it, "I AM NOT COMING HOME!" and then hang up. It was entertaining, or maybe not entertaining so much as we were curious, and laughing--again, not my proudest moment.

A few minutes later she called Javier (yes we know all the servers) over and started shouting at him to get her server. "This is the worst margarita I've ever had and I've had lots of margaritas. And do you call these tacos? Get my server that other guy." Now she definitely had our attention. Javier kept trying to calm her down and she kept screaming for her server. What we knew (because we're there all the time) was her server, Marlo, speaks NO English. And not only that, he is our favorite and no one was going to yell at him whether he could understand what they were saying or not!

I stood up to go to the bathroom (I had had more than one sip of my drink) and stopped as I was passing her table. "M'am," I said, "It sounds like you're having a really bad day. Why don't I just pay for your drink and meal? There's no reason to yell at the servers." She turned her fury on me, "Why in the world would you do that?" I responded, "I can just tell you've had a bad day. We're regulars here and really like these people so I'd like to do it." Honestly, I have no idea what she was thinking, but she turned back to Javier and said, "Get this stuff off my table." Javier scooped up the plate and margarita and we rounded the corner. 

As he headed for the kitchen and me towards the bathroom, I took that margarita right out of his hand. I mean come on, I was paying for it! She'd only taken one sip, and we could get new straws...

I passed the margarita through the slot, went to the bathroom, and returned to our table. It wasn't over.

The woman came to our table and said in a somewhat hostile tone, "I want to know why you would do that." I was beginning to soften towards her--I think this is probably where the Holy Spirit nudged me into realizing this wasn't just a funny encounter--"I just wanted to help you out. We weren't eavesdropping" (a small white lie for the greater good) "but heard you on the phone" (She was very loud.) "and it just seems like it's been a bad day." Now her eyes softened and she said, "Well, if you consider not getting unemployment for 3 months, losing your house, and totaling your car a bad day. You're right. But I still don't get it. Is this like where I'm supposed to pay it forward?" "You can do that if you want," I told her, "but that's not why I did it. I just hope your day gets better. May I ask your name?"

I might have lied to her a tad bit, but I won't lie here--this is where it got a bit funny again...

"Dora," she said, "Like the explorer." My friend turned to the wall she was laughing so hard. For the record, she turned to the wall several times...

"Well, Dora," I said, "I'd like to add you to my prayer list."

My friend composed herself and said, "She's an Episcopal priest. She does that."

Dora reared back and shouted, "ME TOO!!!" (Friend again faces the wall) "Oh, not the priest part," she corrected, "I'm Episcopalian." The Holy Spirit just wouldn't leave me alone....

"Tomorrow night we're having a Blue Christmas service at St. Thomas across the street. It's for people struggling during this time of year or wanting to be a support to others struggling. I'd love for you to come."

Dora looked at me wide-eyed and said, "St. Thomas across the street? That's my church!" (you guessed it, friend again faces the wall. I mean she's been a member her entire life and I've been the priest for almost six years and neither of us has ever seen Dora...). 

"Please join us," I said, "And I'll definitely be praying for you."

Dora looked at us a little teary and said, "Well, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow night." And she walked out.

She didn't come the next night, but I have prayed for her, and I have told this story many times. The thing is, we never really know what people are going through, and we never really know when or where the Holy Spirit is going to nudge us. We have to be ready. 

Oh, and that margarita, we got two new straws and split it--and The Spot comped the meal...