Recently, I took my mom for a leisurely afternoon drive to an ice cream and dairy store several towns over from her home.
We meandered down River Road as we reminisced and laughed together about my childhood days. After a while, our mouths were dry, and we were hungry; it was ice cream time.
Mom opted to wait in the car while I went in to get our treats. Inside, the dairy shop was bright and cool. Refrigerators filled with fresh milk and cheese lined one wall, while freezers full of gallons of ice cream lined another. Old-fashioned Formica tables were occupied by several people clearly enjoying their ice cream.
I ordered a hot fudge sundae for my mom and perused the long list of flavors before deciding on a cup of salted caramel for myself. Although I ordered us each a small cup, these were wonderfully large. As the clerk handed them to me, my eyes fell on the sign behind her that read, “No credit or debit cards accepted.”
She must have seen my face fall, and she said, “Yes, we’re a cash-only business.” I never have cash, so this was a deal-breaker, but I answered that maybe I could scrounge up some out in the car.
“If I’m not back in two minutes, it means I couldn’t find any. I’m so sorry!” I said as the ice cream sat woefully waiting on the counter.
I headed out, and just as the door was about to close behind me, I heard a man shout, “Wait!” He had just paid for his purchase and said, “I have some cash left.” He turned to the clerk and asked, “How much is it?” When she answered, his face fell. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning back to me, “I don’t have that much.
“Oh, wait a minute,” a lady in line behind him said. “I have a little extra.” She piled a handful of change on the counter. Before I knew what was happening, everyone in the shop was digging in their pockets, adding quarters and wadded-up dollar bills onto the counter.
“Ok, Ok,” the clerk laughed. “You’ve all got it covered.”
“Thank you,” I murmured as I picked up the large cups, very appreciative but also very embarrassed.
After I got back in the car, grateful tears welled up, and I told my mom what happened.
“Yes,” she said, “it was nice of them to help us out. But it was also nice of you to let them.”
I’ve thought a lot about her comment. If the donations hadn’t happened so fast, I probably wouldn’t have accepted them. I don’t like the uncomfortable feeling of being “indebted” to someone else, especially when I could have easily paid for my treats if credit cards were accepted.
But it occurs to me that if we don’t let others help us, the world will get out of practice at doing it.
Maybe we need to let go of our pride a little more often.
Maybe we need to be a little better at accepting the generous ways others volunteer to assist us.
Maybe we can tamp down our egos a bit and let others experience the joy of helping someone else.
The world is full of good people. We just need to give them a chance to show it. Food for thought 😊
And yes, the ice cream was delicious!
