Living in the Moment

It's what needed to be done.

On Saturday, my wife went into Von’s to buy some coffee and some yogurt. She spotted a man in dirty clothes and shabby shoes pondering the chicken combo offerings. The man was looking at very small combos.

“Can I get you a combo?” L asked him.

“Sure,” he said.

“How about that one?” She pointed to a more robust cut than the ones he was eyeing.

“Sure,” he said again.

She picked it up and handed it to him. The disheveled man took it, but he also held onto his smaller selection.

“But if you don’t mind, I want you to stand in line for me. I’ll be right there!” my wife told him, handing him the chicken tray.

The man wandered over to the automatic checkout. L didn’t spot him right away. But the yogurt was nearby and she saw where he was standing.

She walked up to the automatic checkout area.

“I meant to get in a cashier’s line,” L said. L doesn’t like to use the automatic checkstands because she fears they’ll eventually put the clerks out of business.

“What’s happening?” another man, this one already checking out at an automatic station, asked the two of them.

“Oh, I’d like to buy this man’s chicken,” L said.

“I’ll get it,” the man at the station said. “You got two pieces there? No problem.” He rung them up on his own card.

So L had to wait in a long line for a cashier to buy coffee and yogurt. But the other man saved her about $8, and the disheveled man got enough chicken for the afternoon.

Later in the day, we went to church, and the sermon was about living in the moment.

The sermon was presented as an Eastern European parable. A king sought the consultation of a wise hermit. But while the king was visiting the hermit, just on the verge of asking him a final question, another man came to the door, badly wounded and seeking help.

The king and the hermit tended to the man and heard his story. They learned to their shock that the king’s own men had wounded this man, because he was, ironically, coming to the kingdom to kill the king, for seizing his brother’s property.

All forgave each other. The man left the hermitage. The king began to ask the hermit his final question.

“Nothing you can ask has not already been answered,” the hermit interrupted. “You did the right thing. You saw what needed to be done, and you lived in the moment.”