More Lessons in Compassion at the Grocery Store

I mentioned in yesterday’s post a recent trip to the grocery store, but I only told the middle of the story. Here’s how it began:

So, we’d managed to make it to the checkout line with only a few more items than were on the list and with me still on speaking terms with both of my children. I pushed my cart up to the conveyor belt as best I could and began unloading groceries. My son was enthusiastic about helping that day but is too short to reach into the cart with his three-year-old arms, so I would hand him an item and he would put it up on the belt while I rushed to put up five more items before he toddled back to the cart for something else.

I had just handed him a box of instant oatmeal and turned back to grab a few more things when I heard the man in the next line over say, “Oh, no,” in a grave voice. I turned to see my son sprawled on the floor holding his ear, the man bent over him saying, “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

I scooped up my now lustily crying son. I asked him where it hurt, just to make sure I wasn’t missing any less obvious areas of injury, and he just pointed to his ear.  Upon inspecting it, I saw that his ear was red but fine, but my son cried on.

All this time, the man had kept talking. “I’m so, so sorry. I knocked into him with my cart. I was walking backwards. I should never, ever have done that. I’m a horrible person.”

Now that I knew my son was okay, I could turn my attention to this man. I could have felt angry, but instead I found myself feeling compassion for him. How many times have I knocked my son over in a similar manner and felt just miserable over causing him injury? He just kind of gets under foot and before you know it, he’s on the floor. I offered the man this gift:

I smiled at him in what I hope was a warm and compassionate way and said, “No, you’re not horrible at all. It could have happened to anyone. He’s easy to knock over.”

He apologized a few more times, and then we both went back to our groceries.

I felt great about our exchange. I felt calm and peaceful. I felt warm and connected to this stranger.

Of course, a few moments later I was leaning into the grocery cart with my son still propped on my hip with his tear-wet face buried in my neck feeling irritated that no one had offered to help me. And I didn’t just feel irritated; I felt indignant. According to the social contract, as the wronged party—even though the man had knocked my son over by accident—I thought I deserved help, and yet no one was offering it. Thinking this, I felt not-peaceful. I felt angry and isolated.

On the way to the car I reflected on the situation, and I decided that I’d rather feel the way I did when I gave this man my gift of a smile and a bit of compassion than the way I did when I was feeling like I wasn’t getting something I was entitled to. I decided that, from now on, I would do my best to see myself as someone who is always prepared to give the gift rather than as someone who deserves more than she’s getting.

It’s a hard habit to break, though, this sense that I don’t have enough. I frequently feel overwhelmed and upset, and I wish that things were easier or that someone would just offer to help me without my asking for help. But I don’t want to feel that way. I want to feel that other way: empowered and full of abundant compassion. So, I’m going to do my best to cultivate that by giving the gift of compassion whenever I can.

What do you do when you find yourself feeling like you’re begin treated unfairly? Do you cultivate compassion, or do you nurture indignation? If you’ve broken the indignation habit, how did you do it?

7 Replies to “More Lessons in Compassion at the Grocery Store”

  1. This was a really good post, made me think!! It is so easy to jump down people’s throats, but you definitely took the high road! Also, your line about still being on speaking terms with your kids….hysterical!


    1. Thank you, crpeterson! I perhaps took the high road this time, but one of these days maybe I work up the courage to write about the time I lost it in the children’s consignment shop when a woman got haughty with me. Not at all proud of that moment.


      1. I know, I know…I just need to work up the courage to do it. My children still talk about it, and they weren’t even in the store with me at the time.


  2. As I get older, when I am at that point, the crazy point of no certain return, I try and smile the broadest and offer some encouragement. I let myself think about what that person might be going through in that moment and maybe they just need eye contact or a smile or just a word. It takes longer for me to get over my own insult and irritation, but I’m almost always glad that I went that route.


    1. “It takes longer for me to get over my own insult and irritation…”

      So often it takes much more energy for me to staunch the irritated response than it does to give vent to it, but the bad feeling I get from venting take a lot longer to work through.

      Thanks for reading and commenting!


Your turn! What's on your mind?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s