Do
I choose the strawberry Banana, or pick up Odwalla's? I pondered,
wondering which one was a better buy in nutritional value. My night
at Starbucks should be be nice, and the last thing to make it sour
will be choosing the wrong fruit juice for company---let me take a
closer look. So I thought, and thought, and read the labels over and
over again, trying to find a reason to pick one over the other.
“Mommy!”
came the murmuring voice of a child next to the fruit juice section.
“Mommy!” the voice came again, and followed by a plaintive,
buzzing plea. “You'll live,' I heard an adult female voice say in
response.
How
fitting these words are for what I was internally contemplating
throughout the week. I turned to see a pretty mother with her son
clutching onto her right leg. Her son seemed about 5 years old, and
was all up in complaint for the cold temps in HEB's fruit juice
and vegetables section.
“Mom, it's cold!” He went on. His mom
without looking downward at her son, and purposefully looking to pick
out her vegetables, assuredly repeated: “You'll live.” I turned a
quick glance again, and saw the certainty of her words on her face:
She knew beyond all doubt that the cold would do her son no harm.
I
got engaged with this scene. I repeated her words to draw her
attention, which she gave, and looked down at her son with a smile,
who also realizing my presence looked up at me. I sent a hello his
way, which he hid from, holding onto mommy's right leg much more
firmly. “Why don't you say hello back?” His mom said.
We
got into a quick chat, the lady and I. I asked of her family, and she
readily told me of her four children, three of whom were also in the
store with her, but were with their dad, an isle way, towards the
bread section. Her fourth, a baby girl, she pointed at to show
me---she was strapped into her carriage and placed safely within the
front part of her dad's shopping cart, his eyes close-by for guard. A
nice family, I thought to myself, and I enjoyed the exchange.
Small
talk all this was, so soon it was time to part ways. She walked
farther down the fruit juice section, son in tow.
I
walked away thinking it all over, after I choose both Odwalla's
smoothie and Bolthouse Farm's Strawberry Banana---why not try them
both, I had decided.
You'll
live? I questioned. How fitting, these words, and perfect dose for
most of life's ails. The odds may be stacked against us, the
circumstances (to us) may not bode well, the job is in a little way
fulfilling, and the relationship is locked in stalemate, or headed
for the rocks and often the search long.
Yet
the parallels of that and the scene in the store are not
stretched---the settings are not very different from the cold temps
in the store that day, for the little boy. But her older and wiser
mom, loving nonetheless, knowing well what the end is, and the
benefit of the moment for years to come in perseverance, assuredly
says: You will live.
And
so the the great One above, of greater love, and understanding, and
purpose, often in response to our ceaseless cries for relief from
cold or hot temperatures, says: You'll live. And in living, hope.
Thanks,
everybody.
