This happened six years ago and the epiphany to slow down, share more, and give thanks continues to grow inside. Wishing you a miraculous Christmas filled with peace, love, and joy.
‘Twas the afternoon before Christmas, and I had last-minute shopping for the upcoming holidays. On the brink of losing my jingle, I chose to go to the Meadville downtown plaza.
Although rundown and outdated, I wanted to avoid the crowds of the more popular venues. In the end, I still had to go to three different stores for my simple list: gift tags, wax paper, and wine.
First stop, Dollar General. I didn’t think I needed a cart, but the festive Christmas aisle caused me to abandon my list. I ended up loading my arms with tinsel, wrapping paper, dancing snowmen, and gift tags and bags. I looked for a replacement for our silver star tree topper that our dog destroyed.
I had a choice between an angel with a face more clownish than angelic or deer antlers dipped in glitter. Our tree would have to remain topless.
I nearly forgot the wax paper for the peanut butter balls still needing balled and dipped. I scanned rows and rows of aluminum foil, plastic wrap, and parchment paper. No wax paper. No silver star. It sure was hard to shop for Christmas at Dollar General. I imagined I could make an aluminum foil tree topper, and then my cell phone rang, jarring me out of my momentary ambition to start crafting.
I fumbled to pluck my phone from my purse and dropped half of what wasn’t even on my list. My husband called asking me to get whipping cream for the eggnog. Even though I needed a grocery store for the wax paper, I confess my irritation because whipping cream was just one more thing for me to forget or drop.
I picked up my dancing duet of snowmen, shoving them under my arm. I accidentally hit their on-switch and they shook and belted out their rendition of “Silver Bells” from my armpit. Who knew they could sing too? I abandoned the wrapping paper that rolled way too far under a shelf. Gift bags would have to do.
I gave up shopping and stood in the pay line stressing about my unchecked boxes: I still needed to bake and clean and find my winter-scented candles. I was burning pumpkin spice, a fragrance faux pas in December. What kind of party would it be without the aroma of artificial pine next to my artificial trees?
Dear Santa, I would like an elf.
Just then I noticed two chatty women in front of me wearing elf hats atop their snowy white hair. Although they were cute as lil’ elf buttons, they were not actual elves. I could tell by the fake ears stitched on their hats. I found the non-North Pole friends more interesting than my checklist and couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
I leaned my non-elfish ear closer and heard Elf One remark, “I almost spent a hundred dollars in here. Thankfully, I had enough for each of the grandkids’ and cats’ gifts.”
Elf Two ignored her and kept staring at the young man in the opposite line. Pointing him out to her friend, she said, “Look there. That’s Joey.” She whispered loud enough for me to make out that it was her estranged adult grandson.“I know that pointy chin anywhere.” He held a giant candy cane dog bone, a fiber optic tree, and a picture frame. He failed to look her way though.
I just wanted to tell Elf Two to speak up, wave, or hang her hat on his pointy chin and tell him she was there. Instead, she screamed silence, and Joey left without acknowledging his grandmother whose picture would most likely not be filling his frame.
It was my turn, and I emptied my arms on the counter. The cashier had a fun name, Timon, and a smile as wide as the meerkat character from The Lion King.
This Timon was also tall, slender, and caramel colored. He made friendly small talk about the holidays and asked the usual, “Are you ready for Christmas?”
I shrugged my shoulders and answered, “I’m a bit behind, but that’s nothing new for me. How about you?”
He smiled a grin of a 101 pearls, and said, “Yeah, me too. I told my kids it’s no biggie to wait a couple extra days to get their presents. Prices will be slashed then, you know?”
I wanted to tell him how much I understood because I am Serbian Orthodox and observe The Nativity on January 7th. We celebrate with my husband’s family on December 25th. Timon, not a Serb, couldn’t afford gifts until the post-holiday sales.He was upbeat about it though. Hakuna Matata, no worries.
And there I was stressed about having a bare naked tree top. I wasn’t about to tell him that I celebrate two Christmases, with two family feasts, two gift exchanges, two trees…
I raced out of the dollar store with my Coach purse and Hunter boots not worrying about paying for Christmas but embarrassed that I could still be frazzled about all the stuff I just had to do to prepare. Instead, Timon would smile and give his family love, safety, and shelter first and gifts later, when it was less burdensome.
I was relieved to escape into the brewing blizzard and jump into my reliable, warm SUV that I remotely started from inside the store. So many people downtown don’t even own a car, let alone an automatic starter. People pushed strollers, pulled sleds, and rode bikes in all types of Northwestern Pennsylvania weather, not for fun but out of necessity.
Next stop, Tops Friendly Market, the closest grocery. I sped through the aisles for wax paper and whipping cream, and paid with cash, which I rarely carry. Behind me I noticed a petite elderly lady with a purple floral arrangement. The petals were bedazzled in silver and gold glitter and arranged in a festive winter pot. She also had a gallon of whole milk.
The little lady quietly asked how much the flower was, and the cashier told her it was $5.97. She slowly swayed her head back and forth. The cashier asked if she still wanted it and she shrugged, then nodded yes, and opened her checkbook. She wrote “Georgie” in the memo. I could tell it was a hardship.
I got my change and was all set to go, but something stopped me from leaving Tops, check-out-line seven. I lingered to hear the golden gal’s final total, like one watching the Pennsylvania Daily Lottery. I kept looking back at her, like a nosy stranger.
The cashier told her the total: $9.51 Yes! I needed a number under ten and had enough. Before she stained the ink to the check, I handed the cashier the rest of my cash, a ten-dollar bill, and murmured, “This is for her things.”
The cashier looked as if he didn’t know what to do with it. I sensed my lengthy presence was making the flower lady uncomfortable. I lowered my head, and muttered, “Please use this for her items.” I didn’t want her to thank me or refuse the gift, so I sprinted out of Tops.
I can’t explain it, but I felt ashamed. It was Christmas, and all I could do was give up a ten-dollar bill? Yes, because I love to shop and buy things… things that clutter my closets, cupboards, and counters. Things that waste my time to purchase and then return. Things that cost more than our middle-class salary covers.
At the time, I needed to escape the overwhelming empathy that I didn’t want to confront. I did not want to see the less fortunate, the lonely, or the underdog while haphazardly tying up my selfish Christmas bows. But there it was, in big red and green bulbs scorching my heart at the downtown mall.
My brain ached and I hoped my last stop to Meadville Wine and Spirits would leave my heart alone. I picked out some wine, and when I saw Bacardi rum on sale, I grabbed a shopping cart and filled it with various bottles for the holiday season.
When I went to pay the sweet, raspy-voiced cashier named Rita informed me that I qualified for a coupon. She tore it off her stack, scanned it, and announced, “There you go. You just saved ten dollars!”
“How much?” I incredulously asked.
“Ten dollars.”
I had to swallow hard past what felt like a lump of coal in my throat. “I just paid ten dollars for a lady’s sparkle flower and milk at Tops.”
She shook her head with glistening eyes and said, “Isn’t it funny how the world works out like that?”
At that moment, both Rita and I felt the grace of the Lord, the reason for the season. I asked what the coupon was for, and she explained that, for a limited time only, there was an automatic ten dollars off the purchase of two bottles of Bacardi.
“This is more than limited-time-only discounted rum.” I turned to the customer behind me and exclaimed, “It’s a miracle! A miracle in the Meadville liquor store!”
The customer looked at me like I’d already tipped the bottle, but in the context of that past hour, my sobering perception of humanity and my place in it evolved.
Rita reaffirmed, “It sure is somethin’ how the world works like that. Merry Christmas! Can I help you out to your car with all this?”
I clasped the hand of my liquor store angel and said, “No thanks. You helped me enough, Rita. Merry Christmas!”
At that heart-glowing moment, I felt as strong as the Grinch when he lifted the Christmas he stole above his head.
With my box of booze, I walked out of the liquor store feeling lighter, energized, and blessed. I looked above and said, “Thank you!”
I drove away, sobbing, hot tears melting my emotional icicles. It was a strange cry, released with sadness for the needy, gratitude to have all I need, and faithful that I was given a special reminder to selflessly give, without expectations. I crossed myself over and over. Suddenly, I sweat and the hot devil inside my soul burned to get out. I needed a baptism of snowflakes, so I opened the sunroof, riding with the pure relief of the heavenly winter.
When I got home, I hugged my husband and said, “Thank you for requesting whipping cream! It led to a great epiphany. I’m so grateful right now for everything.”
“Oh yeah? Did they have free mulled wine samples again?” He winked.
“No taste testing today. Anyhow, to make a long story short, I went to three different stores in the downtown plaza.”
“Were there ghosts in those old shops?” he asked.
“Ghosts?”
“Yeah! Like in Scrooge. Did you visit three different stores with ghosts?”
“No, no. That’s not even how Scrooge goes.” Then I thought that maybe my Christmas Eve afternoon was a little Dickenish in how I was shown the gift of giving when I was a bit Scroogey.
How much better it is to be present and say hello to a forgotten grandma. High-five the upbeat cashier. Pay-it-forward with flowers and milk. Share the bonus of a coupon.
“No Scrooge ghosts? Good. So what’s in the liquor store box?”
“A miracle. God bless us, every one!”
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