Pauline

I'm a hunter and gatherer. Sometimes to a fault. Especially when it comes to homeschooling; it's a vicious cycle of clutter, expense, false confidence and squandered time.

But this isn't about that.

A couple of weeks ago, I went--alone--to shop my friendly, newly-refurbished Stuffmart Walmart store. I went for a few school supplies: pencils, paper, clipboards, and activity books. Mostly activity books. I need some good mazes or dot-to-dots because my biggest challenge in homeschooling is keeping the little ones busy during table time. It goes something like this:

"O.k., Cuddlebug. On this page you do this and that and so on, and then you color here and there and don't forget to put your name in the top corner."

By the time I explain the same to Dumpling about a page on her level, Cuddlebug is smiling and announcing that she's done, "Mommy, what can I do now?"

Ugh. I give up. And I never even got near the real reason for table time, which is dictation or grammar lesson for Fifi. Good thing she's smart and well-read.

So, anway...I'm at Walmart, and walking in the front door I find that the new store design has conveniently placed all of today's needs right there as the first thing I come upon. I strut purposefully to the activity pads and start browsing.

I'm trying not to be too awkward about sharing the space with an old woman sitting alone in a wheelchair, helpless to move herself.

For a quick minute, I think to myself that it will be better for both of us if I just pretend I don't see her, but then I sense God reminding me that she is a person created in His image. She once had a mother. If the Lord so chooses, someday she could be...me. So, I open up my big mouth and say something out loud that I hope didn't come off as complaining, because it was not my intent,

"I simply must find something to keep my little ones busy!"

And she smiled at me.

I shopped. She watched. And then a man who might be her son walked up with a cart carrying only a few unpaid items. As I tried to respect their privacy and be busy about my own business, it became clear that the logistics were frustrating them. They were one able-bodied person with two wheeled vehicles to maneuver. It wasn't going to work.

So I risked being rejected to offer him, "Can I help by pushing her somewhere?"

He took a quick second to size me up. Might I be a creepy elderly-person kidnapper? Could he outrun me if I took off with his charge? It didn't take long before he said, "Yes!" About 3.4 seconds, actually.

I put down the dot-to-dot and readied myself to follow him. But his directions were to wheel her over and park her in front of the bathrooms. Supposing that he was going to get in line at the checkout and would pick her up on the way out, I had already decided that I would wait there with her.

She was really pretty with hair that didn't grey, but shone white with soft curls. Her eyes hid behind bags and wrinkles, but even they were not enough to conceal the piercing blue that had not faded with the passing of years.

As we strolled leisurely along toward her destination, she said something that I didn't catch the first time. I bowed low and responded, "Pardon me?"

"It's so embarrassing," she repeated, taking her hand away from her face so that the words would not be hindered this time in their travel, "It's so embarrassing to get old and have to be pushed around like this."

My heart was humbled that this sweet stranger would trust me in that moment to be so transparent, and I said the only thing I could think to say, "Oh, not at all. It's my privilege. It's my pleasure. Truly." I could have gone on and on, but knew that to do so would only eventually embarrass the two of us more.

We had a few more steps between where we were and where we were going when she spoke to me as someone who wanted to say something profound but was running out of time, "Well...take one step toward Heaven!"

And right there I thanked the Lord for opening the window to witness as I'm often praying He will, and I replied, "Well, yes. I plan to go to Heaven..."

Only there wasn't the "..." but more of a "."

For reasons I do not understand, I stopped the thought short of saying what I should have said which, in hindsight, would have sounded something like, "but not by my works of righteousness because they are as filthy rags; I'm going to Heaven by way of the grace of God through faith in Jesus Christ."

*sigh*

But alas, all was not yet lost. There would be the waiting time while her son -- who I'd find out later was really her nephew -- was paying for their groceries.

But, when we arrived at the restroom area, she wasn't content to park the chair and listen to me fumble through the Gospel message. She wanted to use the facilities. This was getting a little more awkward by the moment, but the truth was that as much as she looked like she wanted to get out of that chair and walk the 10 yards by herself, I was not going to let this unstable lady fall and break a hip on my watch. So I offered insisted she let me be an arm to lean on as we walked the long, barren road to the big stall at the end of the row.

She went about her business; I waited by the sinks.

When she emerged from the stall, I went over to again act as her stability because there are no railings along the walls in Walmart restrooms. Though, I'm guessing they're available for sale in the hardware department.

I was thinking as we walked to the sinks to wash our hands that I would tell her about my Jesus just as soon as she was settled back into her seat a few short steps away. Meanwhile, I told her my name, and asked her for hers. She proudly introduced herself like polite women of another generation do; she is Pauline *****.

So, now, I'd managed to acknowledge that I'm going to Heaven, but I haven't shared the Gospel message that saved me. And I'd managed to find an opportunity to tell her my name, but I haven't found a chance to let the name of Jesus cross my lips.

And as we rounded the corner, arm in hand, her nephew awaited. He thanked me kindly, but in such a way as to promptly excuse me from their space. Not rude, just finished.

And so I went.

And I regret that I neglected the now. And I pray that God will send another pilgrim across her path who will be quicker and more faithful with their commission than I had been that day.