just be nice

Have you ever been grocery shopping on a Saturday night? Don't do it.

I had no choice last night because I had put it off all week since I was busy with more important things... (ahem) things that involve stickers and colorful paper and too many pictures...

ANYway...

We had absolutely no fresh produce in the house and our options for meals included boxed mac 'n cheese or cereal. This is a family who eats apples, tomatoes and avocados on a daily basis so we were desperate.

So after we put Cami to bed I psyched myself up and dragged my feet and Greenbags to the car, coupons in hand.

We live 10 minutes from 3 different Pulix's (Publixes?) and I hate driving that far because the new one being built will be about a mile from us. But it beats going to Winn Dixie (gross) which is right around the corner from us.

Thankfully it wasn't very busy on a Saturday night. I guess most people have lives and do something fun. Like go to Walmart.

I scoped out the deli and snatched a number. Twenty-seven. The number thing was currently on 19. Hmm, about 4 people in line... 3 people behind the counter slicing meat... if I timed it right I could grab my produce and come back while those other suckers wasted time in line.

I remember mom telling me a long time ago, "Don't go shopping on a weekend night 'cause all the shelves are bare and picked over." Eh, surely I'll find the few things I need. Okay, so no organic apples left. I can deal with that.

Heading back to the deli, they were calling number 25. Perfect.

Then one meat-slicer person walks away, apron in hand muttering something about "...see you Monday."

Meat-slicer #2: "I have a customer who needs a sub..." walking away.


"Number 26?"


Excited customer #26: "Oh good, that's me! How have you been, (meat-slicer #3's name)? It's so good to see you! You're gonna love me... I have a looong list!"

Meat-slicer #3: "Oh that's okay, I've got time...it's Saturday night...what else am I gonna do?!"

(friendly laughter)

Okay, I really wanted to get home, but I was being given an opportunity to learn and exhibit patience at the moment. So I stood with my cart, fiddled with my number ticket, watched meat- slicer #2 go for a world record on taking the longest amount of time to make a sub sandwich, listened to meat-slicer #3 and customer #26/old friend talk about kids, church, jobs, other people's kids, other churches, new jobs, shifted my feet 32 times, fiddled with my number ticket...

Oh! The sub sandwich/work of art was being handed to a customer! Yay, I was next!

"Um, yoo-hoo... meat-slicer #2?? Yeah, you don't need to empty and clean all those containers right now. And you're thoroughly washing your hands after you removed your latex gloves? Okay that's fine. Oh and now you're walking right in front of me and #28 pretending we're not here?! My my my!! I am NOT accustomed to this type of poor service at Publix."

But I was exemplifying patience and it was good for me.

About 3 minutes later as customer #26 continued with her list, I whirled around and, with a smile, presented my crumpled number ticket to #28, who didn't look like she was in the mood for a lesson in patience either. I obviously didn't need to give her my ticket but it kept me from throwing it, and the little foot-whirl pointed me in the opposite direction of any target for casting a dirty look.

I didn't need my Boar's Head sliced smoked turkey for this week and that was freeing. Still smiling, I whizzed my almost empty cart toward the real meat department. I liked how I kept such a great attitude.

The next 10 minutes were spent speed-shopping and cart-weaving. It's like I had to prove to Publix that they couldn't slow me down. I ran across several empty shelves displaying the "temporarily out of stock" signs I wasn't used to seeing during the week so it didn't take very long to get to the bottom of my list. (I know, Mom.) Eh, a bit irritating but no biggie. I'll come back in a few days when they've stocked up.

I was still making good time considering my delay, though I did have to pause briefly in the cheese aisle and inquire of the Publix dairy worker about organic cheese. He knew nothing, but still felt the need to fill my precious pause with irrelevant words. Didn't he realize it was Saturday night and I wanted to be home?! He wasn't even the regular Publix dairy man I was used to seeing. I'm thinking this bag boy was available to work on a Saturday night so they gave him a white coat and some cheese to stock and told him to wing it.

No prob. I was finished and could go home now.

I picked a short line. Behind one family. One family who needed things rung up on 4 separate checks. And they paid by check. Not a debit/check card, but a check. The paper kind that you write on. Who still does that?! (Besides my great Aunt Esther.)

Meanwhile the elderly gentleman behind me was effortfully unloading his items from his wheelchair cart so, naturally, I helped him. He didn't thank me. That was okay. He just chuckled and smiled awkwardly. I think he was foreign.

I'd never seen this cashier before. I thought I was familiar with all the cashiers at my neighborhood Publix. She didn't greet me or smile. This was a first. (Where was I??... Winn Dixie!?)

She glared at my coupons, asked for my signature without saying please, and most certainly did not wish me a pleasant evening. I counteracted her lack of courtesy with a thank you and a cordial smile which soon disappeared when I received nothing in return.

At this point I didn't even care if the EXIT camera caught my disapproving scowl. Nobody cared. They just wanted me to leave as bad as I wanted to leave and they were only displaying their honesty.

As I unloaded my halfway full (notice I didn't say halfway empty) Greenbags in the back seat of the car I glanced up and my eyes fell right on a black bumper sticker on a nearby car.

In a bold white font it read: "Just be nice."

Ha! I'd never seen that one before. Cute. Kinda timely I thought. I felt like tearing it off and marching right back into Publix, retracing my steps and shoving it into some certain faces! (aHEM, oblivious-to-the-world meat-slicers, organic apple stocker slackers, dairy worker wanna-be's, old-school check writers, ungrateful foreign wheelchair riders, and frowny-faced cashiers!!)

That's when it hit me.

The bumper sticker was for me.

Now I don't know about y'all but my God speaks to me in creative ways and I usually know when it's Him talking. And I usually don't have to look very far for it. And you can roll your eyes all you want at me thinking a little bumper sticker had a divine revelation for me that night but it's not crazy and it's not blasphemous. God knows us well and He knows what it takes to get our attention. It's up to us to be open and sensitive to His voice. In whatever form it may present itself.

And there it was in black and white, right in my face.

I had a 10 minute drive home to digest those profound 3 little words that were meant for me at that moment. I'd already been digesting other profoundness from the Beth Moore conference Jodie and I just attended. She read the verse in Psalm 37 that says, "Trust in the Lord and do good." Her point on this verse was that it doesn't say to "do right."

"That's a given," she explained, "Of course we are to do right, but on top of that we are to do good."

It's so simple but it's not always easy. Kinda like being nice.

And what hit me tonight, like a pound of sliced turkey, was that I'm only responsible for my goodness and niceness. It doesn't even matter what others around me are doing or not doing.

And what else hit me, like a ton of organic cheese, was my prideful right-ness. It was practically oozing. Yeah, so I know how to be patient, tolerant, helpful, courteous. I mean shouldn't I by now? Do I deserve a medal for acting out what should be "a given" in day to day life? What good did it bring?

I re-retraced my steps.

Maybe waiting patiently at the deli is a given. It's the right thing to do. And all it takes to add in a little goodness is reading a page in one of the devotional books on the nearby display or striking up a friendly convo with #28 to pass the time.

Perhaps the next time I encounter a talkative misplaced worker I could compliment them on the fine job they're doing. Who knows, maybe it will shock 'em and shut 'em up!

I'm pretty sure common courtesy is a given so maybe when cashiers don't share the love, I could make a point to remember their name and lift them up in prayer during my next devotions.

I think it was good of me to help the elderly man in the wheelchair cart, but the fact that I was very conscious of the good I was doing the entire time made it not so good. And I should've said "God bless you" to him. It's not just for sneezes you know.

My drive home took more than 10 minutes because of the horrendously slow drivers out on a Saturday night. And the goodness resulting from that? Ah, a few extra minutes to contemplate my bumper sticker epiphany.

Doing the right thing takes some thought, but doing good takes genuine effort.

I'm thinking a good policy to have is something like this:
When you find yourself in a situation that presents an opportunity for goodness, pretend you are with your grandmother and her friends at a tea party and act accordingly. Or just pretend you were born and raised in Georgia.


(except on Saturday nights)