Just now, they were out of rotisserie chicken at the store. Another woman was also looking for chicken. When all we found where the chicken should be was some sad-looking overpriced meatloaf, we wished each other luck and I thought about getting the meatloaf. I was about to give up and leave when I heard her say, “Hey! They’re packing up fresh chickens right now!” I hurried over. As the deli staff handed us both our hot ‘n ready chickens, I thanked my fellow shopper for getting my attention before I walked out. Then she said, “Friends don’t let friends buy the meatloaf.”
Chicken in hand, I walked outside in the pouring rain, and that’s when it all hit me like a ton of bricks:
Rev. Zelda is gone.
Violence is real.
Diseases are devastating.
Division is everywhere.
Depression/anxiety is such a draining condition.
I can’t help everyone. Sometimes I can’t help anyone.
I can’t even help myself!
Rain is pouring everywhere. Tears blur my vision. Walking in this wet parking lot, I feel tiny and vulnerable and at the mercy of the universe. And I’m embarrassed because I know people can see me. Worse, they might even hear me sniffling. Thank God for that person who treated me like a friend. Her presence and her simple, funny, friendly words gave me hope that things could be ok.
I’m back in my car. My chicken got a little wet. But I’m ok, thank God. Thank God for this warm dry car and this chicken. Thank God for that friendly woman, and for our beloved Rev. Zelda…; thank God for meds, for friends, for children, for music, and for the rain. Oh how we need this rain.
[Adapted from an earlier Facebook post]
