Spirit
~E~
There were few customers in the store, and not much to do. I was bored. I slowly made my way up and down the aisles of my department tucking in shoelaces, rearranging sizes, grabbing a misplaced pair of shoes and returning them to their rightful place. The store manager approached. A surly middle-aged man that no one liked, with a bad reddish-colored haircut and ugly polyester pants. He pushed up his large square plastic-rimmed glasses.
"This is Miss Rose," he managed to say in a not-too-unpleasant tone.
The woman next to him was ageless. She had white hair and skin so thin and white that I thought I would see right through her if I looked straight at her. She greeted me and indicated a table of our cheap loss-leader men's sneakers. She then turned her attention to the pen and paper in her hand. Well, sort of.
She - someone - began writing.
Size 6 1/2, 2 pairs
Size 7, 5 pairs
Size 7 1/2, 3 pairs
Size 8, 7 pairs
and on.
"Oh,", Miss Rose gasped. "Oh Dear Lord. Lord, I don't know if I can afford all of this." Her hands continued to write.
Finally the pen came to rest in her frail hand. Miss Rose made a few more entreaties to her God and then seemed to stagger for a small moment. She turned to the manager. He accepted the paper, looked at me and instructed me to gather all of the items on her list. I was rather in shock and confused, but did as he asked. The manager assisted Miss Rose through the checkout process; I have no idea how she got the shoes to wherever they were going. Certainly this ancient woman did not drive!
Later I shared this experience with one of the other women who worked there. She was actually quite familiar with Miss Rose, and told me that she donated the items she bought to the homeless.
I've never forgotten this woman although I never saw her again and I like to think that, old as she was back then, she is still out there taking instruction from her God and helping those who can't help themselves.
There were few customers in the store, and not much to do. I was bored. I slowly made my way up and down the aisles of my department tucking in shoelaces, rearranging sizes, grabbing a misplaced pair of shoes and returning them to their rightful place. The store manager approached. A surly middle-aged man that no one liked, with a bad reddish-colored haircut and ugly polyester pants. He pushed up his large square plastic-rimmed glasses.
"This is Miss Rose," he managed to say in a not-too-unpleasant tone.
The woman next to him was ageless. She had white hair and skin so thin and white that I thought I would see right through her if I looked straight at her. She greeted me and indicated a table of our cheap loss-leader men's sneakers. She then turned her attention to the pen and paper in her hand. Well, sort of.
She - someone - began writing.
Size 6 1/2, 2 pairs
Size 7, 5 pairs
Size 7 1/2, 3 pairs
Size 8, 7 pairs
and on.
"Oh,", Miss Rose gasped. "Oh Dear Lord. Lord, I don't know if I can afford all of this." Her hands continued to write.
Finally the pen came to rest in her frail hand. Miss Rose made a few more entreaties to her God and then seemed to stagger for a small moment. She turned to the manager. He accepted the paper, looked at me and instructed me to gather all of the items on her list. I was rather in shock and confused, but did as he asked. The manager assisted Miss Rose through the checkout process; I have no idea how she got the shoes to wherever they were going. Certainly this ancient woman did not drive!
Later I shared this experience with one of the other women who worked there. She was actually quite familiar with Miss Rose, and told me that she donated the items she bought to the homeless.
I've never forgotten this woman although I never saw her again and I like to think that, old as she was back then, she is still out there taking instruction from her God and helping those who can't help themselves.
Comments