The Woman In The Chair

I saw them every week at the grocery store.
She held on to the shopping cart for support.
Her cane was always sticking out of the cart.
It was strategically placed so as not to disturb the groceries.

She was always with her son.
He faithfully brought her to the grocery store each week.
After seeing them week after week, it was inevitable that we would finally meet.
One week we had a lovely conversation; I felt like I was beginning to know this woman.

She worked as a nurse her whole life.
She told me that lifting patients all those years wreaked havoc on her back.
I’m paying for all that lifting, she informed me.
I looked at her small frame and could not imagine how she lifted patients.

Her son agreed with her story.
She was small but she was strong.
Arthritis had taken its toll.
I still thought she was amazing.

I thought of my own children when they were learning to walk.
They loved to walk behind something they could push.
Having a handle to hold onto, gave them confidence and stability.
This sweet woman was leaning on the shopping cart in the same way.

I knew the mother and son by name.
I would smile and wave each week when I saw them.
I did not want to intrude as her son diligently asked her what she needed on each aisle.
She was quick to praise him whenever anyone stopped to talk to them.

I did not see them for quite a few weeks.
I was concerned that something happened to her.
Finally after about two months, I saw them.
She seemed smaller and frail.

I told her that I missed her.
She had fallen.
Though nothing was broken, she was quite bruised.
There were still lingering bruises in the purple color that appears on aging skin.

Her thin skin seemed almost translucent.
They look much worse than they feel, she said pointing to her bruises.
I could see the concern on her son’s face.
He looked at me and I could see the weariness.

She was still holding onto the shopping cart.
Now however, she seemed to really need the support more than ever.
I was so delighted to see her.
I had a sense that their shopping trips would become quite different very soon.

Weeks went by and I did not see them.
I was shopping at a different time, though I was still shopping on the same day.
I saw the woman’s son pushing a cart by himself.
Where’s you mom? I asked him with concern.

Oh, she is sitting in the chair in the front of the store, he said without explanation.
I walked up to the coffee shop that is inside the supermarket.
There she was, sitting by herself, right next to the door.
I went up to her to say hello.

Well, hello, hon, she said.
How are you today? I asked.
Oh, not very good; it’s hard to walk, she admitted.
Well, then, you are smart to sit here and let your son do your shopping, I said pleasantly.

I patted her hand.
I thought about her all throughout the store.
She was failing before my eyes.
It takes courage to get old.

Again, weeks passed and I did not see the pair.
I told myself it was because I was shopping at various times.
I went to the grocery store and saw her son in the produce section.
He was talking to one of the workers and standing in front of the sweet potatoes.

Excuse me, I said, pointing to the sweet potatoes, which I needed to buy.
He moved to the side and took his shopping cart with him.
Where is your mom? I asked.
She’s sitting up front; she just can’t walk any more, he told me.

He continued with his previous conversation.
I decided to go up to the coffee shop to see her.
The chair seemed to envelop her.
She seemed too small to be sitting there.

How are you? I asked her.
I’ve missed you, I added.
Oh, honey, I just can’t walk this store anymore, she said with no expression in her voice.
I noticed the walker in front of her.

Gone was the shopping cart for support.
Gone was her cane.
In their place was a walker.
Even that could not support her when she just seemed so tired.

You are very blessed to have your son, I told her.
Where is he? Did you see him? She asked.
He is near the potatoes; he was talking to someone, I told her.
He said he was only going to be a half hour, she said with a typical mother tone.

I’m sure he will be over here very soon, I said.
I am so glad to see you, I continued.
Oh honey, I just cannot walk this store anymore, she said again.
I hope you get up and walk a little bit, I said, it is good for you to keep moving.

I patted her hand.
I told her that I look forward to the next time I see her.
I walked away.
My heart was heavy.

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. (Isaiah 46:4)

I am a fast walker.
Perhaps it is because I walk every morning.
I came to the end of an aisle as I was pushing my shopping cart.
I had to stop quickly because a man with a small cart was right there.

He motioned for me to go ahead.
You got some momentum there, he said.
That’s what people tell me, I said with a smile.
Did the woman in the chair, with her walker in front of her, have momentum years ago?

Only God knows the number of our days.
Every day we age a bit more.
As we age, we still have Kingdom work to do, as long as God gives us breath.
Our walk may be slower; we may tire faster than we did before, but there is work to be done.

Until God closes our eyes, He will use us for His glory.
Until God does not give us our next breath, we have time to tell others about Him.
Until God calls us Home, we have things He wants us to do here.
We belong to Him, whether we are young or old, able-bodied or frail.

We are His.