Sometimes You Have to Shift Relational Gears

Sometimes you just have to shift relational gears. Right away, or you will regret it later. Guilt will emerge to harass you repetitively with, “I should have. . . why didn’t I”; “I could have. . . but why didn’t I?” This can plague you, all the more when you cannot go back and redo it. I hate to be suddenly faced with an unexpected test: What kind of a person am I really? Will I pass or fail this on-the-spot test of my compassion? Will it show up when needed or not?

Here is the brief story behind the gear shift issue. Perhaps rather than a story, it was a simple exchange, or lack thereof. I was standing in a long checkout at our local grocery supermarket. I finally got to be the next-in-line. I was, I confess, self-absorbed at the moment, thinking about what I had ahead of me that day. The woman in front of me was in a motorized wheelchair. And she was having a tough time trying to remove grocery items from her attached carts in front of and behind her seat. This, in order to put them on the conveyor belt. Aggravating her sad situation was her shaking; her hands were almost unable to grasp her food stuffs. She had two boxes of Ritz crackers in the basket behind her seat, and she was struggling to reach them.

That was when an awakening surge of awareness hit my heart: where was my compassion at that moment? I have my own disabilities: I use a cane, but at least I am ambulatory. This woman was not, and had no one with her to assist. Further, she could not help but to show signs of probable MS. Yet how brave of her, how quietly humbling to nevertheless venture out in her condition to go shopping.

My feelings for and vision of her dramatically changed. With compassion-infused words, I softly asked, “May I help you? Let me get those crackers for you.” Smiling, but barely looking up, and apparently unable to turn all the way around to see me, she said, “Yes, please.”

Now compassion was pouring out of me. So was love for this crippled woman in need. Then she dropped two eggplants on to the floor in front of her, where I could not reach them. Instead, the young checkout person who had been silently watching us, came from behind the counter, showing compassion as well. He picked them up for her.

Toward the end, as she was paying her bill, the cashier realized that he had somehow neglected to register the two eggplants. He apologized and told her how much she still owed. That apparently presented some difficulty for her. I wondered if she had enough money. So I spoke up to the cashier and said I would be glad to pay what she owed. He looked at me, and quickly said, “It’s already taken care of.” By that he clearly meant he would pay the needed amount himself. I said, “Thank you for your helpful understanding.” He smiled with a bit of embarrassment around the corners of his lips.

Then once more I looked at the unnamed woman. As she pulled out and turned left, she was finally able to look square at me, and with an unexpectedly gracious smile, she quietly said, “Thank you.”

Thank goodness I was able to shift gears in time to be of service. Thankfulness is a far better feeling than guilt.