‘Twas a bone chilling kind of December day, wind whipping off the water. The boy, probably in his early teens, dressed for blizzard conditions in puffy jacket, thick gloves and ski-hat, pushed a long line of grocery carts towards me. He worked as a bagger/cart boy at Gloucester Crossing’s Market Basket. While I wrestled my cart against the wind, inching towards my car, the young cart rescuer headed in the opposite direction.
Suddenly, I heard him shout, “May I help you? I’ll be happy to take your cart and help you get the groceries into your car.”
First of all, he said, “May I help you?”
Then, he said,he’d be happy to help.
I needed some good news.
‘Thanks. That’d be great.”
He made quick work, lifting heavy bags from the cart into my car.
While he worked, I fumbled in my purse for a tip.
When offered, he said, “We’re not allowed to take tips. My job is to collect the carts in the parking lot and look for customers to help. Thank you for your generosity but I like doing this, being kind.”
Did he just say, “generosity” and “kind”?
Kindness in exchange for nothing.
Who’d have thought to put a pulpit in a parking lot, proclaiming,”Good news!”
And for one discouraged widow on a blustery afternoon, the God who loves to show up, redeemed more than a cart, lifted more than groceries through one kind kid.
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