A Holy Moment at HEB

Our air conditioner went out on a recent Saturday morning. That evening, I headed to the grocery store in search of cold beverages, frozen treats, and anything else that might provide a break from the miserable heat.

After loading my groceries in the van, I pushed the empty cart to the rack. I made eye contact with an elderly gentleman standing next to a large SUV. He stood in the space created by the passenger door which was open wide. The vehicle was idling and there was no one in the driver's seat. His startled, anxious eyes compelled me to walk over to him.

"Hello. Can I do something for you?"

He answered my question in a voice so weak and muffled that I had to lean in to catch his words. I repeated what he said to make sure that I'd heard him correctly.

"Your daughter's name is Katherine. She's shopping in the store and you need her?"

"Yes."

In the split second it took to process his statement, my mind went in three different directions: 1. Oh no, all of the frozen food I just bought is going to melt in my van. 2. How am I ever going to find his daughter in this busy grocery store? 3. I wonder if he even knows her telephone number. I pushed the first thought aside and accepted the fact that, at least temporarily, I was now responsible for the welfare of a complete stranger.

As it turned out, he did know her number. I used my phone to call her, introduce myself and relay his message. She said that she was in the checkout line and would be outside, as soon as possible.

I relayed her words, assuming my role as "Good Samaritan" was over. It was the look in his eyes that made me pause and then ask, “Do you want me to wait with you until she gets back?"

"Would you?" he asked with gratitude and relief.

Assuming his daughter would be joining us momentarily, I took the opportunity to introduce myself and ask him for his name. It was John. He lived with his daughter in San Antonio .

Dividing my focus between John and the grocery store exits, I continued to ask questions. He had grown children living in Houston, New Braunfels & San Antonio. He was grandfather to six.

His daughter had yet to make her appearance. By this time, we were both scrutinizing every woman walking out of the store. I continued to ask John about himself. He was originally from Houston and 30 years earlier, had moved to San Antonio to sell eighteen-wheelers.

Ten minutes passed and still no sign of Katherine. John became increasingly agitated as the time went by. He shared with me that he had recently been in the hospital and had spent time in rehab. Then he looked at me and admitted that he had trouble with panic attacks.

I asked him if that was what was happening when I had walked over to him. He looked down at the ground, answered, “Yes,” and told me that they made it hard for him to breathe. Gently squeezing his arm, I shared that I had struggled with panic attacks, too, and they did make life difficult. After that exchange there didn't seem to be anything left to say. He slumped against the car’s seat for support as we stood there in companionable silence.

I began to struggle with my own judgmental thoughts. What kind of daughter would leave her father outside for such a long period of time? Why was she taking so long? What if he’d fallen? What if he’d tried to go into the store to find her? What if…

I started praying. I prayed that John was in a family situation where he was treated with respect and honor. I asked God, "What is going on here? What do you want me to do? Please show me." The Holy Spirit whispered, "Look at him."

In his mid-80’s, John’s tall, slender frame was frail and stooped with age. He had a full head of white hair, paper thin skin and clear blue eyes. He was wearing sensible brown shoes, khaki pants, a crisp, blue short sleeve button down shirt, and snappy red suspenders. By all outward appearances, he was well taken care of. My eyes slipped past him to the dashboard in front of the passenger seat. A set of dentures rested on a tissue. I smiled to myself as I realized the reason for John's muffled speech.

I continued to look and saw more. I saw a man who no longer had the physical strength to climb into a large vehicle by himself after he had climbed out. I saw a man who could no longer drive himself where he wanted to go and was at the mercy of his daughter’s errand schedule. I saw a man who somehow maintained his dignity, even as he welcomed the company of a stranger in a grocery store parking lot. And as I saw, I was overwhelmed with the knowledge of how much Jesus Christ loved this man.

About this time, I noticed a cart heading straight towards us; pushed by a woman, who looked to be in her sixties. I searched her face for clues about her relationship with her father. She did not appear to be alarmed or rushed. She calmly brought her cart to a stop and looked at John.

“Dad, what do you need?”

“I couldn't breathe,” he confessed. Comprehension spread across her face as she murmured, “Oh, Dad.” Those two words conveyed a deep love and understanding that eliminated the need for further explanation and answered every one of my “What ifs.”

“Katherine, this is Denise Webb. She stayed with me while you were in the store.” I was startled, amazed and pleased as John introduced us. Katherine thanked me for taking care of her father. I assured her it was my pleasure. It was time for me to go.

Before I left, I turned to John and reached out to shake his hand. As he thanked me, I looked deep into his eyes and with a new awareness of Christ's love said, “God bless you, John.” I meant those words with everything in me.

As I drove home, I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened. I wiped away tears as I acknowledged how deeply the encounter had moved me. What had happened? Even as I continue to seek understanding, I have discerned two things.

I stood in his presence. “Stand up in the presence of the elderly, and show respect for the aged. Fear your God. I am the Lord.” (Leviticus 19:32) I believe my standing and waiting with John showed him respect and honor at a time when he needed it most. The Lord loved this man and wanted me to know it and to show it. Under the evening sky, I had the privilege of representing Jesus and bringing God glory by merely standing with another human being.

He spoke my name. “This is Denise Webb.” His remembering and speaking it aloud blessed me beyond words. The more I ponder this, the more I realize it is true. A wise woman once told me that there is great power in the spoken name. She explained that Jesus called those he loved by name, “Martha. Peter. Mary. Lazarus.” When we hear our name spoken, it re-centers us and calls us back to Christ. John spoke my name and blessed me as tenderly as if Christ, himself, had spoken.

The sacredness of my encounter with John has provided me with a brand new appreciation for the phrase, "Blessed to be a blessing."

Oh Father, what a blessing to be known and called by name. Forgive me for those times I do not hear You calling because I am too busy with my own plans. Give me the faith to entrust my schedule to Your safekeeping and the courage to cooperate with Your divine appointments. May I say "Yes" to what You have planned for my day. Help me to see with the eyes of Christ that I might love with the love of Christ. Abba, serving You in this way will always bring You glory and honor. I love You and praise You. I ask these things in the name of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Amen.