If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. (Mother Teresa)
My grandson’s miniature cars speed across rug or kitchen floor and carry his imagination. I saw those possibilities for less than a few seconds as I waited in line at a local discount store.
As the couple behind me and I chatted, the man making his purchase, a one-dollar toy car, raised his voice. “It’s how much?”
I watched his dark cheeks tighten.
The cashier repeated the price in a barely audible voice.
I pulled out my wallet. Even if I had spoken before reaching into my purse, I would have been too late. I guess he expected the item to be further discounted. My mind-reading skills are rusty.
He ranted about how nobody likes him. Everybody hates him. Why doesn’t the store just call the police?
Nevertheless, he pulled out the dollar and more change than necessary to pay the tax.
I’ve been thinking about this slender, angry man and praying for him ever since. One dollar and a few coins couldn’t have saved him. He needed far more. An earlier justice probably. Love, when he was ready to recognize it.
He walked out. How easy such a simple event could have led to violence.
The cashier in the next lane hugged her fellow worker.
“That poor man isn’t well. You know it wasn’t you,” I added. And she nodded.
Yet, one tiny car travels somewhere. The only gift he could afford? I don’t know. No story is ever complete. May a blessing appear. Somewhere.
Since then Christmas hasn’t come and gone; it has come and begun. The day has nothing to do with a belief system. Presents. Parties. Enough lights to blind traffic. The ability to be peace transcends any religious border. Let it happen. Please.
terrypetersen 