Gabriel and I went grocery shopping. I found a great little
battery-operated four-wheeler at Wal-Mart. Gabriel of course picked out the red
one since that’s what color Amos has. I have just wanted something for him to
be able to keep up with the other kids outside. So, we picked the red quad and
off we went. I set it in the grocery cart and set Gabriel on top. Every time I
pushed the cart into motion, Gabriel rode like the wind. He would hold the
handlebars and stand up just like Amos does. He soaked up all the female
attention he could get and he reveled in all his male coolness. It doesn’t
matter what size the wheels are, guys think they’re pretty cool when they’ve
got new ones. It was a shopping trip that I didn’t want to end. Gabriel was so
content. It was incredible.
We stopped in at Buehler’s on the way home. On the way in, I
noticed my favorite Salvation Army bell ringer. A tiny frail woman all bundled
up in a blue jacked and a red scarf wrapped around her head. Her weathered skin
says she’s in her eighties or nineties but her eyes remain as clear and sharp
as in her youth. Cool and blue, they jump out at you as if to remind you that
she knows a thing or two and doesn’t spend her spare time baking cookies. I am
always intrigued by the bell-ringers. They give up hours of time to sit in the
cold on a hard chair. Your first thought may be that they’re retired and have
nothing better to do. They could be playing euchre or bridge somewhere. But,
they’re not. They care about something so deeply that they pull themselves out
of comfort to sit in the cold for weeks on end. Quite frankly, it amazes me.
We bought our milk and on the way out, Gabriel got Ms.
Salvation-Army-Volunteer’s attention. No surprise there. We quickly learned
that she has a keen eye for handsome men. I mean, even in her 90’s she’s a girl
who can’t resist cute. So began our conversation. I didn’t think any exchange
would last long. Then again, I hadn’t counted on such openness and depth. Eventually,
I pulled up a chair and settled in. It’s a conversation I’ll never forget.
From the moment I saw her, I painted a mental picture of her
in my mind that looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. You
know, pearl earrings coiffed hair and a stylish dress draped over with a chic
apron. In my mind’s eye, she’s holding a plate of fresh baked cookies and a
platter of ham and potatoes sits on the table in the background. She’s smiling
contentedly while fresh and clean Dick and Jane and Sally wait for father. It
sounds far fetched, but once she started unfolding her life’s story to me, I
realized that I probably wasn’t too far off.
She started by describing her controlling and jealous
husband whom she feared. Nonetheless, she loved him and said that she stayed
because she didn’t want to hurt her children. She recounted the way she would
watch for him at the window and tried to have everything just as he wanted when
he came in. “I tried to obey him.” She said. She recounted how she went to
counseling without him because he didn’t want to go. She was desperate to make
it better. It never came.
After she talked about her marriage, she naturally moved on
to her three children. “I had two girls and a boy. “ she began. Something about
the way she said “had” two girls and a boy gave me a sick feeling, but I pushed
the thought to the back of my mind and just figured she was just using past
tense. She told me that one of her daughters had an abusive husband. The old
woman’s time worn face suddenly grimaced. Her eyes were stark and cool. They
were still young and crisp and showed the pain she still felt for her daughter.
“She took her own life.” She told me. “She pulled into her garage one day after
work before the kids came home from school. She never turned off the car... The
kids found her.” Her face twisted in pain, her eyes became red as she tried to
stop her tears. “She didn’t know how much she hurt her mother, her sister and
brother, her children…” Her voice broke. “What a selfish thing to do,” she
said. “But her pain must have been so bad that I couldn’t even understand.” At
that moment, I wanted to pick her up and hold her like a little child. I just
wanted to comfort her. She actually comforted me. Despite her deep pain, joy
returned to her countenance. You see, she puts her hope in Jesus Christ. She
knows that one day soon, Jesus will pick her up and restore her. He will wipe
away all her tears.
Hurried shoppers continued to pass through the cold corridor
during our exchange. She would pause during the most painful parts of her story
just to tell complete strangers that Jesus loves them. “I should be more bold”
she said, “I don’t know why I’m not, but I don’t want to shout at people.” For
what it’s worth, I thought she was bold.
Mostly, people just ignored her. Which is probably why she
said some pretty funny things as they passed. A fifty-ish ruggedly handsome man
dropped some coins in her red, worn tin. “Thank you,” she called after him. “Jesus
loves you… handsome.” A businesswoman in a sharp suit also passed through
“Merry Christmas! Jesus loves you.” Then she added, “don’t you look pretty.” I
could hardly stop myself from laughing.
One minute I wanted to laugh and the next I wanted to cry. She
went back to her story and all the pain returned to her face. She told me about
her grand daughter that lives with her. “She got mixed up in drugs and had a
baby. They live in my basement… sometimes a lot of her friends live with me too
and I feel like I’m running a homeless shelter, but I’m glad they’re with me
and not out on the street.” Just when I think this woman could not possibly endure
any more she added, “I was adopted and I figure that if people loved me enough
to take me in and change my life, I ought to do the same for others.” I was
kind of amazed that she opened up to me. Sometimes I feel like the young and
older generations sort of just disregard each other respectively. Like we just
assume the other party is completely clueless or disinterested, so we just
remain disconnected. God taught me a lot of lessons during this encounter and
He used her faith to strengthen mine. She has suffered so greatly and still
works joyfully for God. Which is to lovingly serve others.
