I returned from Pittsburgh to Carbondale with the two kids
yesterday, along with a dwindling amount of cash on hand as Daniel the cash
replenisher drove on solo to Indiana. After last night’s Chinese takeout, I
wanted to resume my usual cooking for Daniel’s parents today. Even as I still
wondered if I had tipped too lightly the shuttle driver that took us from St.
Louis Airport back (a two-hour drive), I knew that there’s only around US$20 in
my wallet. And I had no credit card.
So it shouldn’t had been surprising when the cashier at the
Co-op indicated a price over US$4-5 more than I could pay. I mean, it did kind of
surprise me because I had only four items with me (a bag of Israeli couscous, a
packet of marinade sauce, a single serving of coconut-based yogurt, and a pound
of chicken). So I tried to return the sauce first, then the couscous, but even
then I was US$2-3 short. Clearly the one thing to return that would have made
all the difference immediately was the chicken, and if I were just cooking for
the two kids and myself, I wouldn’t have included it in the first place. It’s
hard to imagine other people in the family being willing to eat a vegetarian
dinner though.
As I withdrew the yogurt from the to-buy pile, I said,
“Declan, I’m sorry, but I don’t have enough money to buy your yogurt right
now.” Declan’s face got that sad puppy frown; he was really looking forward to
being able to eat non-dairy yogurt for the first time ever. Last night, he
watched his sister snack on a chocolate yogurt and lamented his dairy allergy.
I figured once I get some more money from…somewhere, I’ll walk back to the
Co-op to purchase the coconut-based yogurt in time for his bedtime snack. But
then—the woman behind me in line said, “I’ll pay the difference.” The cashier
and I looked at her in surprise, so she said again, “Just put the amount she
can’t cover on my card.” I think several other people turned around from the
other lane to take in the situation, and I was by turns amazed, thankful, and
flustered.
“Would you like the rest of my coins?” I offered stupidly.
“That’s okay, just…pay it forward.” She declined with a
breezy smile.
As I reflected on what happened once I’m back at the kitchen
counter, peeling and chopping carrots, my feelings of thankfulness and chagrin
continued their attempts to sumo wrestle down each other. Feeling thankful is
obvious; there was no reason for the woman to help me and no benefit aside from
any illusory warm fuzzy feeling, but she did it anyway. Feeling chagrined
surprised me a little; Do I really have such a pride issue that I cannot
receive grace wholeheartedly? I realized the sources for this latter feeling
were:
(1) Before I had gone to the Co-op, I had gotten
most of the vegetables for the stew I planned to make at another corner store.
It was the first time I stopped in, and I may have gotten a little carried away
by the discount section (three blackening pears and an overly ripe peach I can
use to make popsicles for the kids!) and the lower produce prices. Forgoing the carton
of blueberries alone would have enabled me to cover all the costs later. The truth was I impulse-shopped on a pint of
crimini mushrooms (that didn’t even end up in the stew), the aforementioned
discounted fruits, and extra onions I could have gone without. So my chagrin
was over the fact that I could have in fact paid for all of my purchases, and
my lack of funds in the end was poor planning. How could I overspend at the
first store when I knew that money was tight? Am I really incapable of living
within a frugal budget?
(2) When the woman had said she would cover the
difference, did she mean the yogurt only? Because the cashier had returned the
previously rejected couscous and sauce back to my to-buy pile as well when she
offered. I had been so embarrassed at the time that I didn’t even think to give
the cashier all of my change rather than offering them to the woman, let alone
thinking to just let her cover the yogurt cost. I feel bad about the
possibility that she might have paid for a lot more than she had originally
offered. Argh, I hope she didn’t feel like I was taking advantage of her
kindness.
(3) And in the end, yes, I think I’m still really
proud about “the way I am”. “The way I am” is not someone who goes shopping and
let someone else cover her expenses for her. Part of me sees how nice it is to
see such graciousness, and so to accept it, but still part of me exists that
groans about such poor self-sufficiency.
What self-sufficiency? Even if I had enough money, it would
still have been grace that I could have them, pay for food, have access to food
that nourishes my family. I hope I can pay forward the kindness obviously given
to me today, of course. And I’m equally reminded of how many things I don’t
deserve or have never earned—which I enjoy everyday anyways.
