Typically, for, me, standing in line at the grocery store is an out-of-body experience. I’m a people watcher and yet an avoider of people all in one person, so you can imagine the paralysis I feel mentally and emotionally, all just from being in a line at the grocery store. It’s intense.
And then I’ll see her. The Worn Woman. She shops at your grocery store, too. She just got off of work at her physically exhausting job. By the looks of her groceries, she has young kids at home waiting for her. She’s tired. And worn. Not just by her job, but by life in general.
As the clerk is finishing up swiping her items across the scanner, she’s nervously waiting for the total on the screen. Would she have enough? Her eyes start darting through her already bagged items half in the cart, half still by the clerk. What will she put back if she doesn’t have enough? It looks like all the basics to me. Bread. Milk. Orange juice. Nothing frivolous. And the total rings up, and she pays and is on her way.
I sit there with my full grocery cart, the money to pay for it, and a fat lump in my throat. I thank the Lord that I have something sitting in front of me that most mama’s around the world can’t give to their children. And I make an oath, to the Worn Woman, that I will always be watching. And she will be never have to put an item back.
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