The Problem We All Live With

Paper or plastic? The cashier asked me.
Both, please, I answered.
I will help you bag as soon as I get my groceries unloaded, I added.
I lifted my week’s worth of groceries out of my cart.

As soon as the last item was on the moving belt, I went to the end of the checkout line.
I grabbed a paper bag and put it inside a plastic bag.
You’re smart to do that, the cashier remarked.
Our bags break very easily, he said.

I’m so glad you said that, I responded.
I wish they were like the ones in the supermarket in North Carolina, I remembered.
What do you mean? He asked really wanting to know.
When we vacation in the Outer Banks the bags at their supermarkets are wonderful.

Why are they so great? He inquired.
They don’t use any plastic bags at all; they have large paper bags with handles, I explained.
I have actually made a suggestion to this store’s corporate office to consider using them.
I don’t think they will, he said, since these bags cost less.

I left the store to go to my car.
My ten bags were filling the shopping cart.
One bag was on the very top leaning a bit precariously.
I knew that it had organic lettuce and a few other produce items in it.

When I approached the curb, there was a slope.
I had to hold onto my cart so it wouldn’t get away from me.
There is a stop sign at that point so the pedestrians can cross safely.
A car was waiting for me to cross as I waved a thank you to them.

As the cart went down the slope, the light bag with some of the produce fell into the street.
I knew that the lettuce could withstand the fall.
However, the other few items could not.
In its own plastic bag was a container of cherry tomatoes and two containers of blueberries.

It would have been nice if the tomatoes stayed in the plastic bag.
However, the law of gravity prevailed and they fell out of the plastic bag and burst open.
The cherry tomatoes were all over the street.
A man that was in front of me turned around and said, Oh, no, and walked on.

This was my mess.
I couldn’t even blame it on the flimsy bags.
This was just poor placement of a bag in my cart.
I couldn’t leave the tomatoes lying there.

The woman waiting at the stop sign drove around me and the mess.
I turned and put my cart back up on the curb.
I came back to the mess and began to clean it up.
I just prayed that if a car came along, it would stop and wait for me to finish.

Out of nowhere, a kind young man stopped.
Instead of, Oh no, and walking on, he bent down to help me.
You should go inside and get new ones, he said kindly.
The store will understand, he said quite sure of his assessment.

I went back in and passed all of the same people who just told me to have a nice day.
One of the managers saw me.
He saw the mess in the plastic bag.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the bag from me and told me to get new ones.

I went back to the organic section and chose blueberries and cherry tomatoes.
I stopped at the customer service desk as he directed.
By this time everyone at the front desk knew about the mess in the parking lot.
I cleaned it up as best I could, I said, my face red with embarrassment.

I looked down at my pant leg and saw that some tomato seeds were stuck there.
As the tomatoes fell on the street, some of them splattered.
They splattered not only on the street but apparently on me as well.
The evidence was plain to see: I was the woman who made the mess.

I left the parking lot with my groceries in the back of my car.
I remembered a painting.
It was a Norman Rockwell painting entitled, The Problem We All Live With.
It was on the cover of LOOK magazine on January 14, 1964.

Rockwell’s painting depicts six-year-old Ruby Bridges being escorted by federal marshals.
In 1960, the William Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans became integrated.
Ruby was the first African American child to enroll in the school.
The local white community was fiercely opposed to the court ordered desegregation.

Rockwell painted the little girl in her clean white dress with a copy book and a ruler in her hand.
Four anonymous federal marshals escorted her past a wall with a disgraceful racial epithet.
There is a red splattering of a tomato that someone had thrown.
I remembered the splattered red tomato.

I remembered my mess in the parking lot.
When the woman drove around me, she splattered some of the tomatoes with her wheels.
There they were, smashed on the street.
The red tomato juice splattered in grotesque shapes.

The splattered red tomatoes in the parking lot made me pause.
I would like to think that we have come very far from this ugly time in history.
In some ways we have.
In other ways we have far to go.

We still have supremist groups that believe themselves to be superior to other racial groups.
We still have prejudices that are difficult to lay down.
We have people in leadership who align themselves with certain groups for political expediency.
We see each other in categories, which will always divide us rather than unify us.

We have heard the word, disavow, in recent days.
Deny, disclaim, disown, repudiate, reject, and renounce are synonyms.
It is a strong word that cannot be used lightly.
If one disavows, then one must mean what they say.

We must never have splattered red tomatoes on a wall ever again.
We must see each other as a person of dignity because we are made in God’s image.
All the shapes, all the sizes, and all the colors point to a majestic Creator God.
What an Artist our God is!

We may not be throwing tomatoes, but we are still slinging words in anger.
We, as a nation, are angry and often do not even agree on what we are angry about.
We have not left the 1960’s behind us.
We are just throwing different things at anyone who dares to disagree.

How I wish the problem we all live with would go away forever.
Because of sin, it will not.
However, God’s people have the Holy Spirit inside us to guide, teach, and remind us of truth.
The Holy Spirit brings to mind what the Word of God says and helps us to obey.

Ruby Bridges’ white dress reminds me of the garments of righteousness we wear in Christ.
If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated Me first. (John 15:18)
To whom are we throwing our tomatoes?
Could it be that the tomatoes we are throwing are aimed to hit Someone else?