Pre-Ramble: So, I was on my way home from a string of errands and had to stop at the grocery store for a few things. I LOATHE grocery shopping, by the way. There has got to be a better approach to that whole urban hunting and gathering process.

I think the Jetson’s had it right … you’re standing on some kind of conveyer belt that takes you over to a button, which when pressed, causes the desired food items to appear in the special chute. Jane Jetson was totally able to bypass the incredibly tedious sequence of grocery shopping steps … so tedious in fact, that I am too lethargic and annoyed to list them for you now.

Note: When you walk into the grocery store, JUST TAKE A CART.  Never reach over and grab one of those little hand-held baskets thinking that you only need a few items — THAT IS NEVER THE CASE.  Don’t set yourself up for the walk of shame back to the front of the store, loaded down with all kinds of random stuff, in front of everyone. (They know you’re going back for the cart.) 

So, I had been shivering all day (springtime in Minnesota) and was going to make chili for dinner. (I make a fabulous turkey chili with secret ingredients in it — can’t really talk about it.) I had 5 or 6 items in my cart (I totally could have gotten by with just the hand-held basket) and was standing in the express line. 

As I scanned the trashy magazine titles, a tallish, disheveled, older man holding two frozen pizza boxes under his arm tentatively shuffled over. His movements were halting and awkward, as if he felt that he was taking up more physical space than he rightfully should. As I inched along, I realized that both of his hands were shaking with what must have been some kind of tremor disorder. I couldn’t help noticing that he was having trouble negotiating the credit card scanner and shepherding his pizzas past the register. A couple times I thought about jumping in to help, but to do so seemed inappropriately disempowering somehow, a violation of his pride and independence.

As we stood across from each other at the bagging station, the man looked at my items and then at me and spontaneously said, “It looks like you’re having a party!”

Puzzled, I glanced back at my stuff … the few random chili ingredients, a box of strawberries, and a bag of tortilla chips. I looked up, smiled and replied, “No, just dinner … ” then added, “You’re the one who looks like you’re having a party … pizzas … my girls love pizza!” 

The man was now struggling with the stack of bags, so I casually lifted his pizza boxes, slid them into a bag with handles and extended it out to him. His eyes now twinkling, he thanked me, explaining that he had recently hurt his back, and how hard it was to do things, and how he was just a mess. 

Smiling back at him, I said something lame like, “That’s gotta be tough.”  He nodded, hands still trembling, and began shuffling toward the doors.

The Take-Away: That brief and seemingly inconsequential exchange was three days ago, but remains fresh in my mind for two reasons  … 1. the act of grocery shopping was profoundly more challenging for this man than it ever could be for me (just quit my whining already); … and 2. the fact that a simple bag of chips looked like a party to this man still makes tears well up in my eyes. It’s a huge reminder of the attitude of gratitude that is so often lost in busy days and weeks. I want to remember to celebrate everyday as a precious gift. And, I wish I would have invited him over for the party.

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