16/11/2019

Good morning. At my local supermarket I recently encountered a man poring over a pack of fruit. I stopped to offer help, “Are these apples?” he said, I said they were pears; he didn’t seem to hear. I tried speaking louder. It didn’t seem to help. I showed him the label, pointing and gesturing, but I couldn’t make myself understood. In the end I’m ashamed to say I gave up, hoping someone else might help. A few minutes later, in the queue to pay, the same man was ahead of me, still clutching the pears. As he moved, I saw on the back of his jacket, in huge letters, words I’d previously failed to notice: “DEAF BLIND”. 
The young man at the till was brilliant. Where I’d felt clumsy, he was confident and skilful, gently touching the man’s shoulder and moving nearer. He held the pears up to the light, and helped the man feel the coins of his change.
When it was my turn I said to the cashier, “You dealt with that customer with such dignity.” He told me, he has a cousin with similar needs who’s taught him communication skills. And he said, “anyway, it’s not my dignity that’s at risk”. The cashier’s thoughtfulness and care made me think about what it means to truly attend to others and to really see another person’s needs.
I’d assumed that the man with the fruit had needed my help, but instead he’d shown me my own need to be more attentive to those around me, and to look and listen with greater care.
God of all, open our eyes and ears to see the world and those around us more clearly. Bless us with humility that we might notice our own short-comings and always be expectant and ready to learn from others. Amen.