Actually, it all began in the raspberry patch. As I was picking from our heavily-laden berry branches the other day I noted how many had already dropped to the ground and how tentatively some clung to their stems. It was with extra care that I cupped my hand under those that were ready to fall and gently scooped them into my bucket. The procedure got me thinking about people.
My musings along that line took another direction yesterday morning while I was parked at a local grocery store. Beside me, gleaming in the sunshine, was a 1962 Mercury Cougar Super Sport or equivalent (I’m not a car buff). According to the owner, even the paint, a vibrant lime-greenish yellow, was original. As we chatted he mentioned that he had 11 vintage cars, all in original condition.
I remarked with a chuckle that he could retire on those treasures. “No,” he responded, “I make sure I work at least 10 hours a day, seven days a week.” After a slight pause he continued, “I lost my wife to cancer recently and I have to keep busy.” After yet another break in his words, he continued, “actually I lost my grandmother, my mom, four aunts, three female cousins and two spouses, all to cancer.” Neither of us spoke. As he drove off I thought of those berries, ready to plunge to the earth, and I prayed there would be someone in his life who could help him in the journey.
Here’s the lesson I learned this week: we don’t know the back story so until we do, let’s give each other the benefit of the doubt. Someone may be longing for your supportive hand.
“Judge not that ye be not judged … with the same measure you use, it will be measured back to you.” Matthew 7:1-6
