“The Spirit Had to Teach Me,” Tambuli, Apr. 1987, 8
The Spirit Had to Teach Me
As I finished my shopping, I did not consciously choose the cashier farthest from the long lines of noisy shoppers. Perhaps it was just because I felt so exhausted that I was drawn to this quieter area.
Whatever the reason, it was somehow comforting to stand quietly without making decisions for a few moments. As soon as the two customers in front of me finished with the cashier, I could pay for my items and go. My teenage daughter stood behind me in line. Wearily I allowed my mind to wander in thought, not totally aware of what was happening around me. Not until the middle-aged man ahead of me began to get restless did I realize that our line was not moving. Glancing to the far end of the counter, I saw four brown bags full of groceries loaded in a shopping cart. A humbly dressed, white-haired woman was counting her cash onto the checkout counter. Futilely she search her purse for additional change, opening one compartment after another with trembling hands.
As the tension mounted, I wished I were nearer to her. Yet this was a special group of strangers—all unusually patient, with no disgust or mockery on anyone’s face. I felt the flooding warmth of the Spirit as I almost heard the words that flowed into my mind: “Help her.”
“That’s all I have,” the elderly woman quietly said, giving up on her search.
Apologetically, the cashier removed a small sack of fruit or vegetables from the top of one brown bag and weighed it on the scales. Its value was insufficient. Her face registered embarrassment as he took a second bag of produce from her sack and weighed it.
“No, I need …” There was urgency in the woman’s voice as that second bag was removed.
Knowing that helping in the wrong way might create more awkwardness, I prayed silently. “Oh, Father, how should I help?”
I could wait no longer. Better to try and be wrong than to wait.
Leaning across the customer ahead of me, I asked the cashier, “How much does she need?”
“Ninety-five cents,” he said, grateful that someone else was getting involved.
“Add it to my bill,” I replied. But the Spirit prompted, “Pay now.”
“Better yet, here is a dollar,” I said, and reached across my groceries and the man in front of me to lay it on the counter. Relief showed in his face. Apparently he had wanted to help but had not known how. “I’ll divide the cost with you,” he said and immediately laid some coins on my dollar. I resisted the impulse to decline his offer and thanked him instead. Suddenly, I felt as though the heavens had opened, bathing our group in an unexpected warmth. We had all wanted to help.
Quickly the young cashier completed the transaction and replaced the things in the woman’s sack. Then, calmly, self-reliantly, the woman turned and faced us. Standing more erect, she began, “To whom do I owe …”
Tears blurred my vision as I pleaded for help. “Oh, Father, give me the right words to say. Please don’t let us hurt her or wound her self-esteem.”
A reply came effortlessly. “Someone who loves you, and who loves the Lord,” I heard myself saying. “Besides, you’d have done it for me.”
The white-haired woman began to relax. Her trembling stopped. A smile came slowly, thoughtfully to her face.
“You know, I would have,” she said, as if she were surprised that I would know. Then, smiling broadly, she reaffirmed, “I really would have!”
With dignity she turned and pushed her grocery cart out the open door.
A sort of reverence lingered in our line to pay. Suddenly, I didn’t feel tired anymore. The customer in front of me began to whistle a tune.
On the way home, my daughter broke the silence. “Mother, that was really nice the way you helped that lady. It made everyone happy.”
“You know,” I said, “I really didn’t know how to do it by myself. The Spirit had to teach me. All I did was pray for help.”
Illustrated by Allen Garns