Good Medicine

7:45 one morning found me walking into the convenience store to purchase two papers (we're coupon clippers!) and a gallon of milk (a necessity in our household). As I entered the man at the counter said, "Good morning." I smiled back and then hurriedly grabbed my items. I don't know about ya'll, but convenience stores aren't my favorite place to be; I have that "get in, get out" mentality when it comes to gas stations. After selecting the longest date of milk and checking to make sure the papers still had the coupons inside (it's horrible when you get home and find out they were swiped), I made my way to the counter.

This is always the worst part for me. In a department store, or even grocery store, I don't mind purchasing my items and talking to the cashier, but at a convenience store? Aren't they all just rude, depressing smokers? Hoping to get out as soon as possible, I pulled out President Jackson as the employee greeted me again (probably just an enforced courtesy) and rang up my order.

Suddenly, he (still with a bright smile)nodded at my shirt and asked if I attended Dartmouth, the college named there. Taken aback, I had to wait a moment and locate the English language that had temporarily flitted from memory -- not to mention any form of a smile. At last I recovered it and replied that I didn't (how did he confuse me for a college student, anyways?) and told him Daddy had attended there. "Wow! That's a great college," he amiably added. At this point my total had been compiled, so I relinquished the twenty and he pulled out my change. A few other remarks passed, nothing rude just simple, friendly conversation, and I was prepared to leave.

"Have a very good day!"

"You, too! Oh, and thank you very much," I cheerfully said with a genuine smile on my face.

He nodded his head while simply asserting, "My pleasure."

And I was out. Feelings and thoughts crashed over me like waves at the beach. But relief was not one of them. No where could I locate the motivation to mull over the rudeness of the cashier or how horridly sickening his aroma of cigarette smoke was. Why? Because none of that existed. The man at the register appeared and smelled clean. No rude look or comment ever made me uncomfortable. To quote a beloved movie, "He was all ease and friendliness!"

Then I began to analyze the situation (I've fallen into the habit of doing that with everything), and I quickly discovered my fault. I had committed an error that I am always preaching against, stereotyping things. Obviously, I hate stereotyping. In fact, I don't know anyone who enjoys it. But, in my sinful nature, I found my self judging someone I had never met. I entered that gas station completely expecting and awaiting a certain attitude and experience-- a bad one. I was totally confused when the only bad attitude in the whole store was my own and the experience was a great one. His cheerful behavior and uplifted countenance encouraged me to find something to be grateful for and to avoid putting a label on things.

So, next time you walk into a gas station, just remember my experience. Granted, I don't encourage you to walk into every store expecting a amiable attitude every time (that isn't realistic anywhere). But I think we should give people a little grace and remember that even if they smell like cigarette smoke and are short with us, we have all been created in the image of God. We might just try acting like it! (Great Scott, I'm on a roll today!)

In conclusion, I'll leave you with Proverbs 17:22, "A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." The BP employee did some good doctoring on my heart, so I'm gonna share the love. Will you?