So, in a concerted effort not to lose my Jesus, I have limited my trips to Wal-Mart and started patronizing a local grocery store instead. The store is clean, well stocked, and if I go at the right times, I have the store nearly to myself. The people who do shop there don't look like aliens from another planet, they are wearing real pants instead of pajamas, and acting in a civil and dignified manner...with exception to an older man who farts with every step he takes.
The past couple of times I have gone to my new choice in grocery stores, I have had the same cashier. Her layers upon layers of inexpensive brightly colored jewelry always catch my eye. Last week I noticed that with every item she picked up from my cart she winced with pain. She had deep splits in her fingertips that would open from the pressure she applied to pick up an item. Item after item after item. I felt guilty for buying so many things and torturing her...but she stood there at her register trying to smile and doing her best to do her job so she can pay her bills.
Some days are hard enough just to get through, but when you hurt constantly just from doing your job, it has to really suck. I couldn't get her off of my mind as I drove that thirty miles back home to the ranch. There is somebody I know that has those same splits, so I called them to see what, if anything, had worked.
About a week later, I had to go back to the grocery store. I was disappointed I didn't see this cashier when I walked in, but I got my items and proceeded to the checkout. That cashier just happened to come back on duty from her break so I got in her line. I watched her unload my cart. There were band aids on her fingers trying to shield her fingertips from continual punishment. As she handed me my receipt, I handed her some things that will hopefully help her. She was momentarily quiet, looking at what I had given her. Studying it with her eyes and listening to me explain I had watched her trying to smile while doing her job and that I wanted her not to hurt so she could really smile. She offered to pay me and I refused, telling her that this had been laid on my heart and was something I just wanted to do for her. She started to cry and asked me why I would do something so nice for her when I didn't even know her. She didn't feel worthy of an act of love by a stranger...at first. She looked up and asked me my name and came around the register and asked to give me a hug. I told her I was from the south and strongly believed in hugs. We aren't strangers any more.
The point of this story is not to tell you I am a good person....I'm not. I've met some really nice people in my life. The kind that if you poked holes in them, they would bleed Jesus. They've probably never said a bad word...not ever...and are always there when church doors are open. Sorry, that's not me. The point...THE POINT... is to remind you and me that every day we can open our eyes to those around us and recognize a need. A need we can do something about. We can choose to be a blessing and be the change we wish to see in this messed up world. One small act of love at a time.
Cause what the world needs now....is love....sweet love...it's the only thing that's there just too little of.
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