Cucumbers ~ A Floating Encounter

I have conquered Costco in record time and I'm feeling good! I clumsily maneuver my over-stuffed cart into the nearest line-up and settle in for the wait. I eavesdrop on the conversation happening in the next line over. Wrecked knees, hockey injuries, and the pain-killer of choice. Hmm. Not very interesting. I scan other patrons for signs of life, interest, engagement.

The woman in front of me is beautiful. Seventy-ish, tall, and slender. Her face is peaceful, her eyes lively. My attention had been taken by her earlier in the store. She was impossible to ignore; her smile, that look-you-in-the-eye connection shared with everyone she passed.

I spot the woman working the till. She looks tired. She reminds me of other women I know: women who are being beaten down by hard choices and tough circumstances. A twinge of compassion. And then I'm distracted by the business of shuffling groceries from cart to conveyor.

The clerk works quickly and efficiently but neglects to give the woman in front of me her cucumbers. The transaction is already complete, my fellow-shopper's arms are full and she's tangling with her purse. I step up to the clerk, quickly, quietly (wishing, as always, that there was a way to do this invisibly) and whisper, "I'll pay for her cucumbers. Just give them to her and send her on her way."

I hustle back to my cart, hoping to avoid further interaction. I overhear the exchange that follows: "Here are your cucumbers, Ma'am. They've been paid for already."

"Really? How?"

"That woman paid for them."

"Which woman? That woman?"

I have my head buried in my cart and I'm willing my invisibility cloak to work it's magic.

"Yup. That one right there."

Head up now, arms full of noodles, I see that I'm going to have to answer for my interloping behavior. "You paid for my cucumbers!" My co-shopper is beaming at my side. Beam-ing. "You didn't have to do that. Do you see the smile on my face? YOU did that!"

I shuffle awkwardly (I always feel so darn awkward.). I blurt, "I was happy to do it. Do you know what? I've watched you in the store this morning, and you smiled at everyone you made contact with. You spread light everywhere you go!"

This stops her. Her eyes fill with tears. She says thank you again and steps away. Right back to the clerk where she proudly, and somewhat loudly, repeats what I've just said to her! "She said I spread light everywhere I go!"

Oh dear. Any discomfort I'd been feeling to this point is compounded by the realization that others have been drawn in to our exchange. I can't explain my reticence in this, I only know that there is so much more opportunity to really fail in this floating encounter now that more bodies are involved!

I finish transferring my groceries and approach the till. I notice my clerk has stopped working. She's standing at her post, tissue's in hand, weeping. Weeping giant, unchecked tears. I want to reach out to her, to comfort her, but a cold metal money machine blocks my path.

"Aww, Hon. Are you okay?" I inadequately muster.

"You just made that woman's day. She left in tears, you know. And now I can't stop crying."

"Oh...uh..." Eloquence is nowhere to be found. I should have remembered to grab some from the over-stocked shelves in aisle four.

The gal re-packing my cart jumps in, "People just aren't like you, you know? We never see that kind of thing. We never see it."

"Oh...uh..." I'm scanning my mental files for something to say. I want so much to bring my Jesus into this conversation. I fire off "Holy Spirit? Help!" prayers as fast as I can. He's hilariously silent. He often is. Hil-ar-i-ously.

"I just can't stop crying. We'll just chalk this up to menopause, okay?"

I giggle. "Okay. You don't need an excuse to cry. You're really tenderhearted. No need to make an excuse for that."

And then I make some flippant remarks and we joke about how we all cry during sad movies and I step away thanking them for their help today.

And I take a deep breath, glad to be away, quickly succumbing the mental pounding that always follows these encounters. "Why do you always open your big mouth? You're such a geek. And then something good comes of your weirdness but you can't give the credit back to Jesus. You're such a loser."

As my sleep-deprived brain absorbs these charges, I notice the elderly shopper standing by the warehouse doors. She approaches me as I near the security check. "Hello again, Dear. You did something so nice for me, but they won't let me leave the store! The cucumbers don't show up on my receipt, so they think I'm trying to steal them!"

I can't contain my giggle. The security post thinks that this beautiful gramma is a produce thief?! That makes MY day!

We visit the security staff together and I explain that the veggies are on my receipt and that their hers to keep. They let her pass but stop me, encouraging me to go get my money back since they weren't my cucumbers. I quickly explain that I did it on purpose and that every thing's looked after. Her confused glance follows me as I scoot my cart through the yawning exit.

Clear! Interaction over. Floating encounter ended.

I wrestle, as always, with what of Jesus was left in my wake. I have no answer for that. His kindness leads us to repentance. I pray that His kindness will do it's work in thirsty hearts. I pray His kindness will remind me that it's for me, too. Accusation and Guilt have had their say, but if I did not fully serve my Lord today, I will, one day, know how to talk of Him with ease and purpose and meaning.

Because He is the only, only source. He can use our tired, sick, stressed, spread-thin personages to spread the knowledge of Him throughout the earth. Let's keep lifting Him up in whatever small ways that we can and see what He does with our meager obedience.

Time to put my own groceries away. I'll put "ability to credit Jesus out loud" on next week's grocery list. Maybe Safeway will have a "Buy five, get fifty bonus air miles" special on in the Deli!