Ghosts of Grocery Lines Past

The event that I'm about to share happened a couple of months ago, but the lesson I learned from it has stuck with me ever since... and I hope it always does.

I was rushing, as usual. This is really the only time I ever go to Allen's, our neighborhood grocery store... when I don't need much and don't have time to drive to, and fight the crowds at, Smith's. So I don't have to tell you what my mind set was like. Get in, get out and just get it done.

I grabbed what I needed and got in line in the only open checkout stand. There were two people in front of me.

The lady who was currently checking out was a middle aged Hispanic lady with three kids. The guy behind her, and right in front of me, was a young guy with one item on the conveyor belt and earbuds in his ears.

Within thirty seconds of getting in line, an older gentleman walked up behind me and took his place in our slow moving parade.

My thoughts were elsewhere. I was thinking of things I had to do that day... Things I wanted to get done the next day... My calling... My family... And suddenly I realized that I had been standing there a fairly long time, and we hadn't moved at all. The 'natural man' in me immediately kicked in as I came to the realization that there must be some problem. I leaned to my left to see what the situation was.

The Hispanic lady at the register was digging through her wallet for her change. I was relieved to see that she was almost done with her transaction, and tried not to be too irritated that she was using up her spare change. After all, I have been known to dig out the exact number of pennies and dimes to not have to break a bigger bill.

I could hear the older man behind me getting anxious. I could hear his restless movements as he leaned to his left, just as I had, to size up the situation. I could hear his fingers begin to drum on the handle of the shopping cart. I could hear his impatient sighs.

The young guy in front of me was simply oblivious. He was obviously caught up in his own world, filled with his music, and his thoughts.

I was surprised when we still hadn't progressed a minute later. The cashier was speaking to the woman in Spanish. It's been nine years since I've taken a Spanish class, so I didn't understand much, but there appeared to be a problem. The customer turned to her kids, the oldest of which appeared to be about ten. I barely picked up, "Where are the bags?" Her son responded, "In the car." "Bring them to me."

I was puzzled. The cashier was looking over the receipt that was still connected to the register. Hmm... she must have overcharged her for something.

The guy in front of me was still somewhere in oblivion, and the man behind me was now raising the volume of his sighs of annoyance.

The dutiful son brought the bags back to his mom and she proceeded to dig through them. She finally found what she was looking for and pulled out one can of tuna fish. She handed it to the cashier, and asked her something in Spanish. The cashier looked at the can and then at the register and seemed to nod in agreement. Then the cashier turned to the register and began punching buttons.

Immediately, I understood what was going on. It was as if a light bulb went off and I couldn't believe how foolish I had been. This woman was not getting rid of spare change, she was paying for her groceries with every last penny she had.

And she didn't have enough.

"I'll pay for it!" The words erupted from me startling not only my fellow customers and the cashier, but also myself. "How much is it? I'll pay for it."

The cashier looked at me, "Sixty cents."

Sixty cents. That was it. She was short sixty cents. She didn't have another sixty cents to pay for all of the groceries she had collected for her family. And so she was returning the one can of tuna.

I handed the cashier the ten dollar bill I had in my hand.

"Are you sure?" she asked me.

"Yes. Of course. It's not a problem," I responded.

The cashier took my money and finished the transaction. The Hispanic lady was thanking me profusely in broken English. The young guy in front of me had taken one of his earphones out of his ear and was obviously confused as to what was going on, after finally rejoining the rest of us here on Earth. The old man behind me stopped his drumming, and his shifting, and his sighing.

For one moment in time we were all very connected. Five strangers intimately engaged in one blip on the radar of life.

The cashier handed me my change. The Hispanic lady thanked me again and then walked out with her children. And it was over. The moment had passed and life moved on.

I share this experience not to solicit praise, or laud my good deeds to the rest of the world. I share it because of a blunt realization I had that evening as I relayed the story, in tears, to Jeremy.

How often have I been each of the two people that surrounded me in that grocery line? How often has there been someone in need right in front of me, and I have been too consumed with my own life to notice? How often have I been impatient and angry towards someone whose situation I am not aware of?

I will tell you this... I am sure I have been both of those other versions of me far more times than I am proud of. But thankfully, I was the right version that day.