After a ridiculous amount of time putting it off - scraping the bottom of the peanut butter jar, and scrambling to find a tissue for use, sans toilet paper, I had to get to the grocery store.
It was a “must”. And you know how “musts” go. We find a way.
The time it takes to prepare the list, allot the cash, walk through the store, search for what we need, grab a few things we don’t, bag it all up, load the car, drive home, unload the car, organize it in the pantry and the fridge. It’s a lot. You know the drill.
Sticker shock hits too and so, I put off the store run as long as possible sometimes.
No more.
I’d delayed it long enough.
Nevertheless, there I was.
Ready to tackle my list; focused, purposeful, determined.
If there ever was a playground for the distracted mind, the megastore is it.
And I wasn’t going to let any friendship sighting take me off task.
(I swear, I never go to the grocery store, but that I don’t see a friend, or two, or ten.)
Until…
There was this woman sitting on a bench in the vestibule, just outside the main entrance.
I’ve seen her there before.
I know her, it seems.
I don’t want to assume what I’m thinking but it’s likely true.
I can tell by the number of bags, the quiet mutter as she shifts in her seat, trying to look busy - like she has somewhere to be and a schedule to keep, but the con isn’t believable.
Not sure if she knows that, but I can tell.
I’ve been there.
And yeah, there’s a familiar odor, the one that comes from hard living and despair.
And it’s strong.
The odor and the despair.
Both darn near knocked me over.
A stench so rancid, it would take a new kind of bravery to breakthrough it without showing the horror on my face as I approached her.
Didn’t scare me though.
The veneer between people is easily punctured.
We’re not that different.
The human experience is separated by tiny threads most of the time; easy ones to break.
Sometimes a friendly smile is the simple bridge that changes everything.
I was willing to make an attempt.
I just wanted to be with her for a moment, stop my agenda and stand still.
I wondered if anyone had done that with her in years.
It was the least I could do.
So, I stepped in front of her, far enough away for dignity, close enough for curious interest.
Didn’t say anything, just waited for her to notice.
She could sense my presence because she started to fidget all the more.
I had to take quick inventory to see if I was doing this for her, or me.
The distinction is blurred often.
Our good intentions translate as selfishness way more than we’d like to admit.
I decided to proceed.
I had no expectations.
I simply wanted to take a moment to include her in the world.
This was a woman who’d been overlooked somewhere.
I know how it goes.
Right there, I’d made myself a force, refusing “no” for an answer; poised with a smile until she was ready to glance my way.
She didn’t.
She wasn’t. Probably never would have been.
And then I said, “Hi, what’s your name?”
“Oh, I don’t give that out,” she said.
“Hmmm, Okay…. no problem. My name is Nadyne. I’ve seen you here before. Just wanted to share a little Christmas Cheer!”
“Oh, well I don’t need any of that,” she mumbled, as she reached in one of her bags for a tissue.
She tried to shoo me away. I respected that.
I wasn’t planning on sticking around long, just enough to communicate that though she wasn’t up for me, I was up for her. It’s anyone’s guess if I succeeded. Who cares really?
And yeah, there we were.
Me speaking a language, dressed in a package she wanted nothing of.
And me realizing that extending myself to people isn’t about how or if I’m received, it’s about taking the risk anyway, never personalizing the response nor expecting a certain outcome.
If my love is free, then it needs to be free.
I give what I have, when I’m called upon.
God will take care of the details.
Christmas cheer seemed like just the thing she needed, if you ask me.
But then again, my lens isn’t the only one in which to see the world.
And no one’s asking me.
I AM “giving that out”.
I’ll sprinkle it where I can.
The rest works out somehow.