(~) The Human "Bean"
Patience is a virtue. One of the many I lack. Never more evident than when
I am grocery shopping.
Some days the only time I get out of the house is when I force myself to
head to the market to buy what I need for dinner. Often times I go there
with absolutely nothing in mind and find myself inspired by the aromas of
fresh baked bread or slow roasted chicken. I enjoy the experience except
for the crowded vegetable section of the store. This is where most people
slow down so they can inspect, fondle, smell, and squeeze until they have
discovered that one grapefruit, that special cantaloupe that everyone else
missed.
I can be seen, plastic bag in hand, waiting, moaning, and huffing as I
finally slump over my cart in frustration. In just a few seconds I'm in
and out, green pepper in hand and on my way to the scale to slap that
sticker on it. No big deal for me.
Except for yesterday.
I decided to pick up some string beans. Of all the sections in the
vegetable market, the string bean people move the slowest. One bean at a
time. "Oh, Lord give me patience!" I said to myself as I approached the
counter.
There, taking up most of the space, blocking access with his cart, was an
elderly man. His messy white hair flipped up in the back making him look
like a 80 year old hippie. He was average height and looked much like a
string bean himself. Thin and frail looking, he moved extra slow and his
hands seemed to tremble as he groped through the pile of beans.
Without turning his head toward me he said, "It takes time to find the
right ones. There's an art to this you know."
"I didn't realize that. Although that explains why everyone spends so much
time here. They're artists," I said.
"I see them as people," he replied.
"The beans?" I asked.
"Yes," he said in a "matter of fact" tone.
"See this one? This short, stubby one often times gets passed over. It's
appearance doesn't fit the perfect image of a long, thin crisp string
bean. Most likely after too much handling the clerk will toss it out
thinking no one wants it. So I take it. People don't know what they are
missing passing up this one," he continued.
"Now, I know this curved one won't be used either. Some people see food as
more than nourishment. It's all in the presentation. The image of a few
select beans, all of the same length, lying on a plate nestled perfectly
next to the entr¤ ée, supposedly adds to the
enjoyment of the meal. I for one see my food as representing life itself.
The world is full of texture, odd shapes and sizes. My world is not
perfect. Nor is my
dinner plate," he said.
Suddenly I realized that we were the only ones in this aisle. Very unusual
for this time of day. I was calm and very attentive to everything this man
was saying. Also unusual.
"Yes, this pile of beans reminds me that people come into my life in all
sizes. Some are broken like this one. Others are still attached to the
vine where they were nourished and protected and often times were ripped
away from their roots carrying with them resentment
and fear. Like this bean, the vine needs to be removed so that it can be
seen in it's full beauty and not one clinging to things of the past," he
said as he tossed them in his bag.
A few minutes had passed as I stood in silence just watching the old man
as he dug deep into the pile, turning and tossing them from the bottom
like one would stir a salad.
"Well, I must go now," the man said. "I'll leave you with these 'human
beans.' Be kind to them. Don't judge them just by looks. Inside every one
of them is the same life giving elements. But like people many will never
be given the chance."
"So they end up on the bottom tossed aside?" I asked.
"The difference is," he replied, "as people we have a choice not to settle
for the garbage heap."
He tied the top of the plastic bag and turning away missed the cart
completely as he tried to place it inside.
"Sir, let me get that for you," I said.
"Every once in a while I misjudge the distance. I've been blind all of my
life. You'd think I'd have this worked out by now."
Blind? I couldn't believe it. Suddenly a young lady appeared from around
the corner. "Poppa! I'm over here, straight ahead of you. Would you like
me to pick out some nice tomatoes?"
"No, honey. I know just what I need," he said.
Turning back toward where I was standing he whispered, "She's always in
such a hurry. She'll miss the best ones. Have a great day!"
What insight. What vision this old man had. A blind man helped me to see
what joy I had been missing in the simple act of shopping for vegetables.
I wonder what else I have been blind to in the hurry of my day.
By the way. Tonight we're having brussel sprouts. I can't wait to get back
to the market.
- Bob Perks
Ninure Saunders aka Rainbow Christian
The Lord is my Shepherd and He knows I'm Gay
http://Ninure-Saunders.tk
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