I Chose the Short Straw

This past week my wife and I have both been wrestling with this upper respiratory thing that is no doubt sweeping the places where you abide.  Blessings upon you and those you love if it is. We are at that point, at least I am, in questioning which is worse, the disease or the medication that is supposed to fix it.  May never know.

Anyway, my misery felt somehow less miserable than my wife's misery, so I chose the short straw and went to the grocery store which is about three miles from our house. There is no joy in choosing the short straw, but there is contentment that I did a good thing for a woman whose good deeds I could never outdo.  No need to try.

As I walked into the store, feeling my own lungs, lack of energy, and weak legs, I attempted to look around and see and hear folks who were there, customers like me and employees. I tried to see beyond my  short-sided categorization skills. Several years ago, someone I was just getting to know, a man who was very different from me, called me a categorizer when I asked his wife a question. My retort was, "Why do you think that is the only question I would ask her? Besides, your categorizing me as a categorizer makes you a categorizer." To which he just replied, "Hummmppp. Got me on that one."  He would get me on more, but I think we have a lively respect for each other these days. I am committed to some of the causes to which he is committed.

But that is not the point That is only playing in the weeds of this story.

A number of people were in the store at that early an hour. They all were different. There were all the same. They were of some age, young, older, because anybody who is in a store is of some living age.

I wanted to see and hear. What was their hurry? What was behind their hesitations? What was on his play list? What was he thinking when he almost ran into me? What was he thinking when I paused and let his family pass? What was she thinking when I mumbled a "sorry" for slowly getting out of her way? The employee who helped me find and item, actually two employees were on that assignment, what were their live stories? The person who checked me out, what was truly behind her surprise that I'd contribute to the food pantry drive?

How do grocery store narratives intersect with the rest of the themes of their lives? How does a Sunday narrative fit alongside a weekday narrative?

What are their lived experiences? What are their joys? Their sorrows? What brings them peace, and what keeps them up at night? Those who have children, what do the night hours feel like, long and hard, or quick and easy? Those who are rearing children in our crazy world, are their dreams on hold, or are their dreams being fulfilled?

Of course, these are only some of my questions. And I certainly won't burden them with an intrusive, boundary-violating conversation. Not by any means.

I will, however, thank those who served me today via doing their jobs.  And, I will be grateful.  And, I will be perhaps a bit more mindful as to their unspoken stories.

I have my unspoken stories.

I was there on a mission because I'd chosen the short straw.  Glad I did. She is worth more than every short straw I will ever choose, or will ever be chosen for me.

We all have our unspoken stories.

We live in a world of stories that are worthy of being heard, should we choose to share, and then, who will listen?

Thank you for listening to these mental meanderings today.

I count that a blessing.