Be the Choir

With a weary sigh I give up and head to the checkout desk.


It is not easy maneuvering the clumsy beast known as 'the double stroller' through the slivers of space between racks and walls (obviously designed for women with a Kate Moss body-type, sans stroller, umbrella or double) at The Children's Place outlet as I replace shirt after shirt after shoes after shoes that my grumpy twins had grabbed off their surface.

I know not to be frustrated with the boys, as I knowingly took the chance at taking them out so close to lunch/nap time. It was the only window of time I had that week to grab a few Autumnal "Special Occasion" clothing (ie: we will be seen in public clothing) to supplement the generous amounts of hand-me-downs we are given and gratefully receive. 

The bribe of choice had turned out to be a dud, and their Nuks were turning into plastic bullets being fired at the floor in a grandiose display of their displeasure at being strapped and confined to "the beast".  Fun times. Fun times.

I pick out clothes at the speed of light, aware of the impending Meltdown of Doom, in which nothing short of the Second Coming will quiet their troubled, hungry and tired souls.  Not only was I feeling the frustration with this shopping trip, but every shopping trip I have taken in the last five years, even the ones without the children, because there seems to be this imaginary, but loud ticking of the clock that says I have no time to waste, meander to peruse.

Bottom line: I was tired.

As I unload the clothing piled precariously on top of "the beast's" awnings, I note the friendly chit chat between the cashier and the pretty older black lady ahead of me. They are discussing the customer's grandchildren clothing preferences and as she goes to leave she exclaims "Children these days! My granddaughter insists on going shopping with me or her mother to approve of the clothes we buy her! It's..." She stops. She shoots a look at me, takes in the amount of clothes I'm putting on the counter (I had a good coupon) and says, "What about you, honey? Do your children insist on picking out they're own clothing?"

Slumped over my stroller I let out a half-laugh and sheepishly reply, "They do not have a choice. I am their mother and they wear what I provide for them. I'm kinda old-fashioned that way". The cashier looks at me with a smile and the woman's neck jerks back in surprise.

"You, GO, girlfriend! THAT's what I'm talkin' about! Good lord, we need more mama's like you!"

At the sound of her words, the clouds parted and a light shone down from Heaven right onto my tired little frame at The Children's Place outlet. Harmonious voices lifted me from the pit of motherhood doldrums onto a glorious platform where a big, bursting choir chock full of women who had "been there, done that" was behind me, urging and encouraging my heart.Or at least that's what it felt like, even though it was only one woman in front of me. I felt my shoulder's repositioning themselves into a posture that would have made my mother proud and a huge smile broke over my formerly-comatose face as I simply said "Thank you! That means alot".

In coming days, I thought about the maximum effect that minimal conversation had on me and how it made me smile every time my mind touched on the woman's straightforward

and sassy affirmation. It was just yesterday that the thought came to me. "She was the choir." To illustrate the effect of her words, and how she came from behind and lifted me up, take a quick listen to this amazing rendition of one of the most uplifting (in my humble opinion) gospel songs.  I dare your spirit to not be a least a little lighter by watching even only a minute or two of it:

The experience I shared was a small, but mighty-in-the-moment one. No doubt you might have your own. But whether you do or do not, as a grateful recipient, I would encourage myself and my friends to continually seek to create such an experience for someone else. 


*To the "older" women out there who might be reading this, I encourage and thank you for any recognition and encouragement of the younger women you know or 'run into' during the course your days. There's something about receiving an injection of confidence from someone who is ahead of you in life that gives it added power in it's effect.

***

One more note before I leave. They say there are many signs of the times happening here of late....earthquakes, floods, droughts and tsunami's...But the biggest one of all that seals the deal for me happened last week and now there is no denying:

My mother, my beautiful, proper, "queen of social etiquette" mother took three of my children into the last McDonalds in the world with a playground, let them play there for a while and then...left. WITHOUT ordering a blessed thing. Not even a small fry. I couldn't bring myself to ask if they had used the restrooms on their way out. Holy Smokes.

Even so, come Lord Jesus. Come.