I had an experience at the grocery store yesterday that put me through a wash of emotions. It literally left me with tears in my eyes and with such a sense of nostalgia that I was overwhelmed as I checked out. And it stayed with me the whole way home and even more so as I unloaded all my grocery bags. There was that nagging feeling at the back of my mind that told me, “You should share this” and I wanted to ignore it. But here I am, writing something that might be hard, just because I thought I should. 

So, here’s my story…

I sent all four of my kids off to school in the morning and headed to the grocery store alone. I didn’t have a list with me, which is always dangerous. I threw into my cart what I thought I needed, along with a bunch of stuff I probably didn’t need. I had some Thanksgiving stuff, some Christmas stuff, and some everyday stuff. My cart was full as I made my way to the checkout counter. 

The lines weren’t long, as it was still early enough in the morning to avoid the crowds. I found myself in line behind a young mom with two little girls. One was just a baby, still in her car seat. The other couldn’t have been more than two and was sitting in the seat of the shopping cart. Both were crying as their mom unloaded just a few items onto the conveyor belt of the checkout stand. She looked tired as she picked up the car seat to calm the crying baby and, at the same time, trying to calm her older daughter. That distraught two year old was angry at her momma for not letting her have the purchases immediately, which could have been funny, except that it wasn’t. This mom had coupons for each purchase, which made the transaction take a little longer. It also meant I got to observe a little longer and reminisce a little longer.

I was forcefully and immediately brought back to a time in my life that seems like just that- another lifetime. I was that young mom with tired eyes and two small girls in my care. I was just trying to make it through the grocery store without a meltdown, just trying to make it to naptime, just trying to make it through dinner, just trying to make it to bedtime, just trying to make it through a sleepless night with my newborn, just to start the whole thing over again. I literally felt her pain as I watched her care for her two precious daughters as best she could.  And I wanted to cry.

And then as I started unloading my cart, I felt an immense sense of guilt for my purchases. It was a pretty full cart. I hadn’t checked any prices as I put in what I needed and wanted. I didn’t have a single coupon to give the checkout woman. I had leisurely strolled through WalMart and had only stopped once to talk to a friend who I happened to see. No one had bothered me. No one needed me. And I had bought what I wanted. And I wanted to cry. 

I stood in the checkout line, transfixed by this simple scene. This is not out of the ordinary in any way, and yet my heart ached for this sweet mother. Because I knew her pain. I’ve lived her pain. And there were days that I didn’t think would ever end. There was no light at the end of the long tunnel that is raising young children. Time dragged ever so slowly through those sleepless nights and I wondered if I would ever get to be myself again. 

There are parents everywhere who struggle to care for their children. If it isn’t the lack of funds to do so, it is the lack of sleep that is plaguing them. Or maybe it is the physical or mental demands of the children they love. And they stand in checkout lines in every city around the world with their small purchases, their children crying, and their apologetic looks to those waiting behind them.

And why? Why do they give those apologetic looks? Why should they be sorry that their children are crying or that we are waiting 60 more seconds for their coupons to be scanned? Is it because we live in a society that is less than understanding? Are we so used to immediate results or help or gratification that our levels of patience have brought us to the point of being unfeeling humans? Are there really those among us who have not had a bad day or a bad week or a child who was unconsolable? Where is the peace for those tired moms who barely make it through the grocery store and then, after loading their purchases and children into their car, must sit for just a few brief moments before they can drive away? 

This is my message to you moms out there who are gearing up for a holiday season with small children along with either a lack of funds or a lack of sleep: it’s OK. It’s OK if your kids are crying at the checkout counter and they won’t calm down. It’s OK if your coupons make someone wait one minute longer. And it’s OK if there are moments where the tears of stress and exhaustion stream down your face. Do not apologize to anyone for doing the best you can. Do not feel embarrassed by the things you cannot help. And most importantly, remember that nothing lasts forever. I hated it when people who were out of the baby stage said that to me. And here I am, saying the exact same thing. But it is true. With four kids born in six short years, I thought I would never sleep again. But time passes. Sometimes it moves more slowly than molasses, but it does pass. 

I’m reminded of a message that I first heard years ago by Jeffrey R. Holland. I hope you’ll take a minute to watch this short clip- it shows better than I can how the road we travel may seem long and hard, but will be worth it in the end. 

And to those of us who no longer have babies waking in the middle of the night; to those of us who aren’t stressed about finances this holiday season; to those of us who walk through the grocery store alone and fill our carts with what we want: add a measure of patience for those you come in contact with. You do not know their circumstances. You do not know their struggles or their heartaches. Please be patient. Please be kind. If nothing else, give them your silent understanding because it may be just what they need. And if you see fit to do more than that this holiday season, please do it. If you can, find a way to make a difference. Maybe it will be nothing more than a smile. Please share it. Maybe you can afford to purchase those few items for the tired mom in front of you. Please do it. Maybe your neighbor is alone and in need of company. Please visit. 

As for me? I have found myself with an added measure of compassion in my heart since that morning at the checkout stand. I have determined that my actions will be different this holiday season- that when opportunity presents itself, I will not turn away from it. When my conscience pricks with a thought, I will act upon it. Imagine the difference we could make if we all had that same goal this year. Please think on it. There are people who need us- they may not even realize it or may be too afraid to ask for it. Seek them out. Do some good. Be the reason that young mother smiles as she leaves the grocery store this season. I promise it will make your holiday feel more meaningful than it has in the past. 🙂