My little Benjamin and I were at Kroger the other day just putzin' around and filling up our buggy with the usual stuff. I pushed the buggy to a checkout station that looked promisingly efficient so that meant that I could get my stuff paid for and out of there fast. Well, that didn't happen and I am glad. As I was standing there looking at the ridiculous tabloids that draw in my attention like a Death Star tractor beam Benjamin was wriggling his way out of that baby safety strap and working on standing up. This sweet old lady behind me tapped my shoulder and said, "your baby is getting out of his seat".
Thank you, I said with an sheepishly embarrassed tone.
But I am glad I turned around because what I was about to experience was precious.
I picked up Benjamin from the buggy seat, brought him to my hip and started chatting with this sweet lady. She looked like she was at least 75 or older and she was accompanied by a nice gal wearing scrubs. Her smile was big and bright and her eyes were just locked into Benjamin. She reached out her wrinkled old hands to squeeze Ben's fat feet and told me that I was 'very blessed'.
Indeed, I replied.
Then he did something that he has never done. He reached both arms out to her. He wanted to go to her just like he reaches for me when someone else is holding him.
Just when you thought her smile couldn't get any bigger, it did and she took him into her arms and held him close. He even rested his sweet head down to her shoulder. The moment was precious.
Now you have to know my Benjamin. He is a MOMMA's boy!!! He doesn't like it when others hold him. He will usually let Tim hold him if I am not in the room. But the minute he sees me, he cries and reaches for me. He won't stop crying until he is securely on my hip.
So as she is holding B she asked me what his name is.
Benjamin.
Benjamin, she says with a smile as she automatically places one hand on his head. Well, this sweet moment comes to an end and he reaches back for me and as he goes back to the hip I am whisked back to reality of the check out line.
We waved good-bye to that nice old lady and her helper and they waved back. Bye -Bye, Benjamin, she said.
As we drove away I was replaying the whole experience in my mind and I suddenly realized that I had not asked her for her name. I felt guilty about that. You see when she asked for Benjamin's name, she acknowledged his value, his worth, his honor as a human being. He has a name and it was carefully chosen for this boy.
We all have been given a name. We all have value, worth and dignity. We have a place. It means a lot when we call people by their name. I hear people all the time say "I'm not very good with names"
I don't buy that.
I think we CAN be good with names. People that have said that oh so familiar 'Im-not-very-good-with names' bit ARE good with names because they are people who truly love and value others. I've seen it from them.
Asking someone what their name is, remembering it, and calling them by their name has immeasurable meaning. I experienced it that day in Kroger. I hope to see that sweet old lady again. And when I do, I will ask her for her name.
Thank you, I said with an sheepishly embarrassed tone.
But I am glad I turned around because what I was about to experience was precious.
I picked up Benjamin from the buggy seat, brought him to my hip and started chatting with this sweet lady. She looked like she was at least 75 or older and she was accompanied by a nice gal wearing scrubs. Her smile was big and bright and her eyes were just locked into Benjamin. She reached out her wrinkled old hands to squeeze Ben's fat feet and told me that I was 'very blessed'.
Indeed, I replied.
Then he did something that he has never done. He reached both arms out to her. He wanted to go to her just like he reaches for me when someone else is holding him.
Just when you thought her smile couldn't get any bigger, it did and she took him into her arms and held him close. He even rested his sweet head down to her shoulder. The moment was precious.
Now you have to know my Benjamin. He is a MOMMA's boy!!! He doesn't like it when others hold him. He will usually let Tim hold him if I am not in the room. But the minute he sees me, he cries and reaches for me. He won't stop crying until he is securely on my hip.
So as she is holding B she asked me what his name is.
Benjamin.
Benjamin, she says with a smile as she automatically places one hand on his head. Well, this sweet moment comes to an end and he reaches back for me and as he goes back to the hip I am whisked back to reality of the check out line.
We waved good-bye to that nice old lady and her helper and they waved back. Bye -Bye, Benjamin, she said.
As we drove away I was replaying the whole experience in my mind and I suddenly realized that I had not asked her for her name. I felt guilty about that. You see when she asked for Benjamin's name, she acknowledged his value, his worth, his honor as a human being. He has a name and it was carefully chosen for this boy.
We all have been given a name. We all have value, worth and dignity. We have a place. It means a lot when we call people by their name. I hear people all the time say "I'm not very good with names"
I don't buy that.
I think we CAN be good with names. People that have said that oh so familiar 'Im-not-very-good-with names' bit ARE good with names because they are people who truly love and value others. I've seen it from them.
Asking someone what their name is, remembering it, and calling them by their name has immeasurable meaning. I experienced it that day in Kroger. I hope to see that sweet old lady again. And when I do, I will ask her for her name.
