A typical definition for the word “random” might be: “unplanned or unexpected—something that seems to happen simply by chance.”
That’s how many would likely characterize a sweet exchange I had with the gal who rang up my dog food purchase last week at Petco.
But I think, in the end, you’ll see that there was likely nothing random in this interaction.
Nowadays, virtually every retail store has some kind of rewards program and I belong to Petco’s.
So, when the clerk asked for my telephone number, I gave it to her as I do every time I visit. They will often mention the name on the account to confirm that it’s the correct one.
After putting in my number, she said to me, “Dale?” That’s when I remembered that we haven’t been able to get this account changed to my name. But I was momentarily still surprised at her question.
I responded, “That’s my husband and he’s been gone for almost nine years. We just haven’t been able to update my information.” She expressed her sympathy for my loss and then she said something that completely took me by surprise.
She said, “What do you miss the most?” I was so taken off guard by her question that I said to her, “You mean about my husband?” Duh, Lynne. Of course that’s what she meant!
I proceeded to tell her there were so many things I missed about him and rattled off a whole list of things I loved about Dale!
Then I said to her, “Thank you so much for asking.” Who does that? Such a precious show of compassion by this Petco stranger.
But that wasn’t the end of our conversation. (Fortunately, there were no other customers in line.)
She then told me she had recently lost her daughter and how everyone is telling her she just needs to move on.
Oh my – you all know those would be fighting words for me, right?
I immediately felt a kinship with her and shared with her that, yes, the world around us definitely wants us to move on. But I assured her that’s not how grief works.
I told her that there are some losses that we will grieve for the rest of our lives – a husband, a daughter. We are forever changed by those losses, even when the world thinks we have surely moved on by now.
I encouraged her with the hope that, despite how deep we’re grieving, we may find that we are eventually changed for good. Our growing compassion for others may be just one example – as she so clearly demonstrated.
I believe she felt comfortable sharing her loss with me because she knew I understood the grief of losing someone I deeply loved.
What I love most about this story is that God chose to use each of us as the one being comforted – and the one doing the comforting.
While all of this lasted only 3-4 minutes, it certainly had an impact on me. Enough that it made the final cut for this week’s post!
Nothing about this interaction was random. God intentionally placed us in each other’s paths for those private moments when two hurting people connected on a deep level – likely deeper than anything else in our day.
So often my prayer for those who are grieving is that God would drop what I like to call “nuggets from Heaven” into their day to remind them that he loves them and is walking hand in hand with them in their grief.
That’s exactly what this felt like to me. God graciously gave both of us one of his treasured nuggets.
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,
who comforts us in all our affliction,
so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction
with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
2 Corinthians 1:2-4
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