PITY-PARTY CRASHER

I was having a small, silent pity party in my head while in the grocery line this afternoon - the usual stuff that comes with juggling too many jobs on a sleep-deprived brain. An older woman behind me dropped her shopping bags so I picked them up for her. She noticed that I was buying birthday-related items so we started chatting about my daughter and her granddaughter. I had known her for all of 90 seconds, when she gently grabbed my forearm and said, with tears in her eyes, “Please pray for me.” I instinctively and immediately agreed. She quietly shared with me, a perfect stranger, that she’d just come from an oncologist appointment and was given only a few months to get her affairs in order.

I asked for her name as I was bagging up my birthday candles and napkins. She said, “My name is Louise – don’t forget the “I” or my name would be louse!” She managed a little giggle as she put her avocados and prune juice on the conveyor belt. She had just received a literal death sentence and was mustering the strength to keep her chin up, get things done, and share a smile (and a few tears) with a stranger.

Shine on, sweet Louise. What a moment. What a lesson.