The lady at the supermarket

I was in a hurry.

I had just enough time to get in and out of the store with the necessities written on the post-it pad in my mind.

a book for Harley's exchange at school
bread crumbs
cheese
chicken

I grabbed a cart and barreled towards the book aisle in the back of the store. My quick pace had me dodging in and out of aisles, nearly running over a wandering three-year-old by the jewelry counter.

I hurriedly picked out a book and went on my way. As I tore around the corner, standing there in front of the cough syrup, I saw her.

Her scarf caught my eye. It was a square of red and blue paisley with fringe around the edges. She had folded it in half to form a triangle, wrapped it around her head, and delicately tied it underneath her chin. Her long, dirty, white hair hung from under it as if it were mocking the fringe.

Over her layers of sweaters and sweatshirts, she wore a brown coat. From the obvious cracks and peeling on the outside, you could tell it was made of something other than genuine leather. Her sweatshirt hood peeked out from the collar and her soiled, cream colored, cable-knit sweater hung from the bottom. She had black sweat pants on -- at least two sizes too small an a hole in one knee -- no socks and grey sneakers. Her shoes were so worn that the soles were an inch thicker on the outside of her shoe than inside by the arch.

She was pushing her own two-wheeled cart. You could see paper bags arranged neatly under the clear plastic wrapped around it and her two bungee cords kept everything from shifting around.

Her face was round and her skin was aged. Her face attired wrinkles and a kind, content smile. She glanced at me, with her tender eyes, as if I broke her concentration, flashed a smile, and quickly went back to her task at hand.

There was a stack of coupons in her gloved hand. If I had to guess there were probably 50 of them in her stack. One by one, she'd take them off the top, find the medicine pictured on it, and place the coupon behind the price tag on the shelf. She was close to me at the end of the aisle and when she moved to the opposite end, to find the Advil Liquigels, I could see the mass amounts of coupons tucked down the shelves. There had to have been at least 3o, maybe 40, coupons sticking up like tiny white flags.

I watched her for a few more seconds, as she wrapped up the medicine aisle, carefully placing the coupon where the next lucky shopper could spot it. And as she walked away, I noticed her feet peeking out of the soles of her shoes.

And in those 20 seconds it took her to walk out of my sight, I felt it wave over me like a broken dam.

Here is this sweet, little, old lady putting coupons on products that she couldn't afford and had no intentions of buying. Just so someone else could reap the benefits. People she didn't know. People who would never know it was her that put them there. She probably didn't have a family to go home to. Or kids that cared that she wasn't wearing socks in her hole-soled shoes in the middle of winter. Instead of worrying about what she was going to fix for dinner, she was probably worried about where she was going to FIND dinner.

I continued on through the store with a heavy heart. I felt bad for her.

She looked absolutely content with what she was doing, and the simple pleasure of exchanging hellos with the passersby in the store. So why did I feel so bad for her? Was it because she hadn't had a warm shower? Or company while she was shopping? Was it because she was helping someone else -- people she didn't even know -- save a $1 on Nyquil?

I get so wrapped up in thinking that I have it so bad. Wishing personal relationships with people were different than what the are, having to deal with bad behavior from a 9 year old, burning the chicken casserole or backing into my husband's parked truck in the driveway. When, really, it isn't that bad at all. I could easily have it so much worse.

I don't know the sorrow of burying my husband of 53 years, or to be bedside next to my dying child with cancer. I don't know the emptiness of having a loved one fighting in a war.

I'm sure it's only human to lose sight of what you do have only to focus on what you don't have or how bad it might be from time-to-time. I'm sure I'm not alone in this either. You get so busy with day-to-day life...work, school, kids, schedules, bills, laundry and on and on....that before long you find yourself in a place that has no roses to stop and smell. Even if you are a positive person, you find yourself blanketed in negativity. Everything has become so convenient for us with our iPhone apps, take-out dinners, and DVR that we take so much for granted. In a way, we just expect it to be there and be perfect. And then when it's not, we act as though the world has fallen out from under our feet.

Our feet with hole-less shoes and clean socks.

So thank you, lady in the supermarket, for reminding me to count my blessings today and actually being grateful for them.