I was cruising through Costco after a HARD few days, and as I passed a little boy sitting in the shopping cart being pushed by his father, he smiled and reached out to offer me a bite of whatever sample he was eating. I looked at him and said, “Mmm… that looks yummy!” To which he nodded in vehement agreement. With much enthusiasm, he started telling me a barely coherent story about his family. I responded with gasps and intense interest because he seemed so excited to speak to me. Then when the dad started talking to me about nothing important, I noticed how tired he looked. I figured it was because he was out shopping with two young boys all by himself.

But then, the talkative little one’s eyes widened, and without provocation, he said, “Mommy will be home once she feels better!” With that comment, the dad looked at me, and his shoulders slumped with heartbreaking heaviness. He rubbed his son’s head, sighed, and said, “Yeah, mommy will be home soon.” From what I could piece together, mommy’s hospital visit had been lengthy and quite severe. It suddenly dawned on me that they may have simply needed maternal attention and care. So I stood there as they spoke in tandem, trying to teach myself how to express empathy through head nods and occasional “mm-hmms” because they left little room for replies, which was perfectly okay.

I’ve been thinking about them for weeks. We go through our days relatively distanced from our surroundings. But we have no idea what the person or family passing by is going through. I don’t imagine that standing in Costco and having a five-minute conversation with me could have made whatever they’re going through any better. But a moment of smiling and talking with a stranger when you’re feeling war-torn and exhausted could make for a brighter moment.

As I write this, I wish I had done more or offered the dad some sort of assistance that I am certain would have been turned down. Some acknowledgment to the heavy weights he bore upon his shoulders. Just so that he knew they were seen, heard, and that the isolating feelings of fear and grief were only that… feelings. Because they weren’t alone – even now, they’re still with me. Their words, faces, and story still rest in my heart. I should have said it then, but they were not alone.And I wasn’t alone either! My tiny world has been falling apart for months now, but there are others who have far more to lose than I. I guess I needed a reminder.

“If you want to lift yourself up, lift someone else up.”

Booker T. Washington