By Jim Nichols

Saturday morning at the grocery store and there was nothing unusual about it; that may be the whole point of this observation.

I had my list in hand and was searching for the items to put in my basket. I realize as a 2024 guy that I am supposed to put grocery lists on my phone and not on a piece of paper, but that just does not seem right to me. There surely must be some scripture that states that grocery lists should be written on paper (or papyrus), not on a screen.

There were fewer other shoppers than I expected, but three stood out. Judging from their appearance of relative age, they were a grandfather and two grandsons, one about three years old and the other perhaps six. 

Although we have all observed children misbehaving in a store, often it is more of a treasure hunt than a problem. Children have a remarkable ability to turn almost any event into a celebration. That was the case that morning.

The three-year-old dutifully walked holding his grandfather’s hand; I did not see him try to get away. Occasionally, he would glance up approvingly at his grandfather. “What a guy,” he was thinking, “he is tall, he can see everything and knows where he is going.” Having only two hands, the grandfather had the boy’s hand and used his other hand to push the cart. That left the six-year-old loose.

This older boy followed my mother’s description of someone who “. . . has ants in his pants.” He stayed within shouting distance of the other two but skipped and consistently scanned the lower shelves for attractive items. He saw a cellophane wrapped package of sparkly colored cookies. Picking it up, he returned with a plaintive expression to his grandfather. Predictably, the grandfather said, “Put it back.” Following that command, however, required the boy to remember exactly where he had gotten it, so he stood looking at the shelves before just putting it somewhere/anywhere.

Down the aisle he spied a box of cereal he had been wanting. He regained his plaintive expression, returned to the grandfather, and got the same, “Put it back” response. Somewhere.

It was a real treat to watch this charade unfold; it brightened my Saturday morning.

You and I are not particularly good at noticing things that can bring life, simple life, to us. We are so disturbed by uncertainty that we cannot accept the joy and adventure that a child brings to the situation. At the very front door of this grocery store are multiple flowers both single and in large arrangements. If you or I stop to admire them, others might bump into us as they rush past to shop. 

It is hard to take yourself overly seriously when you are watching and listening to birds. Surprisingly, birds seem ubiquitous; the only time I do not see and hear birds there is a predator bird nearby, dangerous to others but beautiful in its own way.

Dawn and dusk occur regularly, and I usually ignore them.

We all know a few people who are generally joyful. We are drawn to them for community; perhaps they will teach us (or remind us) and advise us how to look for things blowing in the wind, how to see a mess and not become unglued by it. These people strike us as more genuine, a trait we see too seldom.

Whatever our age, there are hard things around us. It is difficult not to get discouraged. 

I am trying to remember that all I see around me is part of God’s creation; I may not understand it, but in its own way it is holy.

In 1807 William Wordsworth felt surrounded by discouragement. The specific sources of it were not much different from ours today, but it was still discouragement. He was particularly concerned with the loss of connection between humankind and nature. He penned his thoughts into a sonnet:

“The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; —”

Perhaps I will return to the store and buy those sparkly colored cookies; they did look rather good.

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain