We found ourselves in an HEB grocery store the day before Easter - not something you want to be part of unless absolutely necessary.
Even in Texas where everything is (much) bigger, finding an empty parking spot that day took a good while. Once we did, we began searching for a grocery cart - ultimately discovering that the only two remaining options were mini-carts with no formal seat for a child. So, we put Logan, our two-year-old, into the main basket area of one the mini-carts, and off we went into the madness…
(Photo by Eduardo Soares on Unsplash)
We tucked a watermelon on one side of Logan.
We put bags of carrots, avocados, and sweet potato fries around his feet.
Since they had a deal going on Cheerios, we went ahead and got two boxes, which slid right behind Logan’s back.
OJ, bread, peanut butter, and a few other things piled around him as we squeezed between dozens of people racing up and down aisle after aisle.
“This is crazy…” I heard my wife murmur.
I could feel the crazy, too, and in a moment wordless agreement, we stopped the grocery shopping right then-and-there, and we made a turn toward the registers.
“Just go straight ahead! That’s our best bet!” I called aloud, leading our heroic charge in which we sought to outflank fellow, aggressive cart-pushers - winner gets a (slightly) shorter line.
It was ridiculous, but stress-and-busy-and-crowds do funny things to us.
“You are cute!” said an older woman as our cart pulled up behind her in line. She wore a pink North Face jacket, and she was smiling kindly as Logan dipped up, down, and around the Cheerio boxes.
“You are playing hide-and-seek,” she added, warmly.
Soon enough, she was busy paying, and we were busy trying to explain to our seven-year-old that we would not be getting any candy. We never get candy in the grocery aisle. And also a Bunny will arrive tomorrow and dump gobs of candy into your world.
As we were working the candy logic, I noticed that the woman’s payment process was taking some time. I glanced over to see her fumbling with a debit card and re-typing her pin.
This time it took.
I don’t recall the amount the clerk said she owed, I just remember thinking it sounded much higher than what one would think it should be for the fairly small amount of groceries she had put on the checkout conveyor belt.
And then I realized what might be happening…
“Did our groceries get put together?” I asked the clerk, hesitatingly. I didn’t really believe a mistake had been made. I sensed the woman had actively chosen to buy our groceries for us, but I also couldn’t find words to name that clearly.
“She’s covered your groceries,” the clerk responded matter-of-factly.
(Photo by Maria Lin Kim on Unsplash)
It felt…
Strange.
Humbling.
Why us?
I immediately shifted gears into pastor-mode because (irony of ironies) I could not stand the idea of receiving a gift without showing some measure of deservedness. Minimally, I figured I could offer this woman an Easter invitation to our church.
“So…any plans for Easter?”
“Yes!” She replied eagerly. “Same place we go every Sunday. It’s a dog rescue-and-shelter here in town where we go and care for the dogs, clean up the poop, and help the place get ready for the week ahead. We just love it!” She then went on to share how they themselves had recently adopted a 20-year-old rescue from that place.
Wow.
Then, after a brief glimpse of her Sunday routine among the dogs, she began walking off in one direction. We were the other way.
I offered a genuine word of thanks that felt terribly insufficient.
We don’t need you to do this!
We haven’t shown ourselves to be good enough for you to be so kind to us!
Can we do something (anything!) for you?!
—
Oftentimes it feels like we’re pushing the cart of our life through a mad rush.
People and
obligations and
headlines and
deadlines and
fire-to-put-out
…continually swirl around us.
We navigate as best we can, but its generally busy-and-stressful.
And a lot of the time, the way we cope with busy-and-stressful is to be sure that we have enough in our cart…
to keep up,
to take care of ourselves,
to make sure we don’t fall behind.
We pour…
food
clothes
gadgets
opportunities
experiences
certifications
podcasts
books
social media engagement
important meetings with important people…
...into our cart.
And then someone comes along and does something inexplicably generous.
Like buy your groceries.
Or adopt a dog no one else will go near.
Or notice your two-year-old who you’ve buried under food.
Genuine generosity is…
Disorienting.
Humbling.
Awakening.
And it’s perhaps the only thing powerful enough to spin us out of the stress-and-busy and invite us to consider the nourishment of a wholly different approach…
What if we did not have to hurry, keep-up, and always-be-racing for the front of the line?
What if it’s not racing-and-taking, but noticing-and-giving that were the way unto (oft-illusive) joy?
If this world is in desperate need of a reorientation and revolution - what if generosity were the thing that spun us all for a loop?
—
As we step into these coming days…
What if we wondered less about how fast we can go and how full we can get the cart, and instead tried out questions like:
“What can I do to help you?”
“Anything here in this cart that might be able to serve you?”
Or, perhaps we just up-and-buy someone’s groceries. Or coffee. Or meal. Or…
Because as disorienting, humbling, and freeing as it is to receive generosity, I wonder what that women felt that Saturday - and beyond?
I suspect generosity has a freeing effect on the giver-and-receiver alike.
What if…. What if it’s not racing-and-taking, but noticing-and-giving that were the way unto (oft-illusive) joy?
My only comment is that is the kinda of world I want to live in. Thank you Bobby!
What an experience of generosity ❤️❤️