Jacqueline

It was a Saturday in March before spring had officially arrived. Here on Roosevelt Island in NYC, there was a sense of relief in the air as the light had a softer glow and full-length down coats could be exchanged for a lighter jacket. I stopped at a booth in our local farmers’ market to buy fresh bread.

A woman ahead of me in a wheelchair, wearing a protective face mask, was placing her order. Because of her low voice and the added barrier of the mask, the sales clerk could not understand her order. After a back-and-forth exchange of 3 to 4 times, I jumped in and suggested that he just begin filling the bag, and she could tell him to stop or keep going. She told me in essence to ‘mind my own business’. I immediately acknowledged that she was right and apologized, but she rolled away, never completing her order.

After she left, I turned to the clerk and, embarrassed, told him how sorry I was for having interfered. He told me that she comes every week, buys up to 25 olive-pocket rolls, and requests that they be divided into several bags. That was what he couldn’t understand; she wanted many bags. I was even more embarrassed. It turns out that she gives them away. I turned down the sidewalk, and I saw her parked in her motorized wheelchair. I stopped at another booth and made my purchase, but I kept looking at her and feeling like I needed to apologize again. I made my way over to her and told her that, again, I was so sorry that I had interfered. And she was right. It was none of my business what she was doing, and I should’ve just waited.

She pulled down her mask, and she gently told me that it was all right. As we began to talk together, I came to realize, especially since I had been a speech pathologist in my former career, that she had had a stroke and it had impacted her rate of speech and her ability to find words that she wanted to say. This was the reason for her slow interaction when she was trying to do a good deed by buying bread to share. She told me that she liked to buy the rolls and share them. I deduced that she was living in the long-term care hospital on Roosevelt Island, where many of the patients live in a tight-knit community, and that was where she was bringing her gift.

Sometimes I feel like God puts people in our path to encourage humility and to remind us that God knows and we don’t. Unless we are willing to be curious, empathetic, and hospitable, we will never know another’s story and can’t assume that we do. Jacqueline is her name. I ran into her again on my way home, and we chatted for a bit while I guided her to the local discount store.

This woman had such a gentle and kind demeanor, yet was also firm in her knowledge of who she is, sans the impact of a stroke on her body. I learned so many lessons from her that day, but most of all, as I thought about her often that Saturday, I realized that she is much more courageous and resilient than I am, and that I could learn much from knowing her better. I hope she’s my new friend and life role model. We’ll see.

     From Susan Ceely Philips

When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom.
Proverbs 11:2