Finding good (a year later)

Once again today, I beg your indulgence as I recycle stories from my archive. For today I chose one that brings me hope whenever I feel the world is out-of-control ... that reminds me to put aside my personal agenda whenever I can contribute to the greater good.

From time to time, I’ve fretted over the degree of hatred being unleashed across continents and peoples. Every day, headlines give evidence to new hostilities. But, I’ve rationalized, the stories of love and humanity don’t always get the best coverage.

Four weeks ago, however, I knew the world was in bad shape. Knew, because I’d caught one too many commentaries on TV. I didn't have to ponder; the talking heads spelled it out. Said we all knew the mess the world was in.

Maybe the moderator and panel experts were right. That’s what I believed one Saturday morning in March. And why I’m glad for the perspective of that same afternoon.

3:00 p.m. I was in a hurry. I’m always in a hurry. I had just left one event and was busily checking items off my To Do list before heading home. One last stop to pick up craft supplies.

I entered the art store with a sense of purpose and moved directly to the specialty paper section. There, I found myself stymied by choices. In the background I heard the cashier greet a customer at the counter. I held a paper up to the light, faintly aware that a monologue had begun.

“If you take the time, you'll find a silent bond that unites us.”

Someone was telling of her day. Or was it her life? In a soft, unwavering voice, the words spilled forth in an unending stream. I glanced to the store front and saw the speaker -- a small, gray-haired lady -- at the cash register. “Must be related,” I reflected, seeing how the cashier seemed non-plussed.

I returned to the task at hand. I liked the fibrous burgundy paper. Until I saw the translucent purple. Her husband had died two months ago. (The old woman's, that is.) I could not help but hear and felt a twinge of pity. “She must be lonely,” I thought. The drill of fingertips against register keys stopped for a moment. The cashier murmured her regrets in a tone that was gracious, consoling. I realized she did not know the elderly woman at all.

Perhaps encouraged by the cashier’s attention, the woman continued. Her home had recently been remodeled. I struggled to focus on the sage green paper I now held. Despite the woman’s advanced years, she had amazing recall of detail. But the longer she spoke, the greater my concern grew.

Violet, sage, orange. I made my final paper selections in time to hear the cashier’s apology to the other customers who were now beginning to form a short line. A gentleman was now ready to check out, but the second register was closed. It would be several minutes before the cashier could attend to him, she said; her current customer had selected an exceptionally large number of items. The waiting man's attention was directed to several baskets of items yet on the counter.

“Oh, no!” I had not said it aloud. Nor had he. But, unwilling to wait, the man left the store. And the flow of details from the woman’s life continued.

I wandered around the store to pass time. A young assistant mouthed an apology to me when I reappeared at the front of the store. “It’s okay,” I told her. Was it okay, really? I have things to do. I have a schedule. And a list. I have a pace I must keep! I glanced at the cashier. She nodded her head toward the old woman as if to say, “I’m listening,” all-the-while clicking away at the keypad. I reminded myself that the gray-haired customer was probably someone’s grandmother.

I would wait. Rather, I would wait patiently.

As the narration continued, two more men entered the store and made their selections. I stood with them in line at the counter. At long last, the cashier had rung up the matron’s entire order. The woman interrupted her story long enough to write a check. Her purchases filled four large boxes.

Now the cashier spoke. She gently insisted that the woman take the receipt offered. Waving away objections, she noted that, although the individual items may be insignificant, the purchases had added up to a considerable sum. The woman should feel free to return any or all of the items. Was there anyone at home to help her carry these purchases? The older woman refused all offers of aid except one. The young assistant, then, helped her -- still talking -- out of the store.

As the doors closed behind them, the new customers inquired after this woman. Did the cashier know the woman? No. Did we think she was alright? That was a concern. Did her purchases “make sense?” No … over 100 small items were purchased -- brushes, cards, inks – seemingly random selections. Luckily the woman had paid by check and the cashier could inquire after her later.

Then it hit me: a room of strangers cared. We cared for a woman we’d never met. No one asked her religion. Her political views, economic status and dietary preferences were all irrelevant.

As I paid for my purchase, the cashier thanked me for waiting. I explained that my parents are also aging. And that I hoped that others treated them as respectfully as this lady had been treated.

And this is how I came to recall the other half of my world and remember that good and bad co-exist and probably always have. Yes, I live in a world where human beings act out unspeakable atrocities ... against each other and against our environment. But this is also a world where, if you take the time, you will find a silent bond of compassion that unites strangers and brings balance to our experience of life on earth.

Comments

[Brenda replies]

Wow! I'm really behind in my replies!

Pepsoid -- Thanks! I think a little positivity goes a long way in this world!

Simon--
You know ... I'd still like to know that this lady is okay ... and it has been a year or two since those events unfolded! Of my own story (and my inner battle there) I have to say that anytime my better nature wins out, I have greater hope for all of us!

Cheryl -- You put this so beautifully! Isn't it a wonder that compassion and love have such a power?

[pepsoid]

Your words continue to inspire, Brenda! Always deeply poignant, but always light-hearted, highly readable and tinged with humour... I hope you are aware of the positivity you yourself contribute to the world! :)

[Simon]

This is an interesting story well told. I wanted to know more about this woman! It is good that for so many of you in that shop, concern won out over irritation.

[Cheryl Wright]

Thanks for sharing this experience Brenda. It is a heartfelt reminder that in the swirl of hatred, anger, intolerance and a host of other negative emotions, words and acts, compassion and love and basic humanity still treads the waters in the sea of life.