Salvation at the Grocery Store

My brother posted on Facebook today:

I sometimes feel like a juggler who is barely keeping up, but is constantly having bowling pins thrown at him. Or perhaps they're chainsaws.

I wrote about that sense of overwhelm (yes, that's a verb that needed to be nouned) in a recent post, Failure to Adult. Yesterday I had yet another minor freakout about some stressful things going on--I won't bore you with them, because they're mundane. But I realized that I was in dire need of some perspective: my basic needs are being met, my family is healthy, I have gratifying work and a loving family.

Perspective comes in all kinds of ways... like this sign:

 

IMG_7536

 

In case you're having trouble reading it, it's a sign alerting people with nut allergies to the fact that chestnuts would be displayed in open bins. This sign went up in early December--the "holiday season" in question--and was still on display as of May 20 at 11:30 a.m. when I snapped this picture like some weird grocery-store stalker. Unless chestnuts are the hot new Memorial Day item, this sign is five months out of date.

Barbara Brown Taylor likes to ask groups she speaks to, "What's saving your life right now?" What's saving my life right now is that dang sign--or at least, what the sign represents. This is the grocery-store equivalent of having your Christmas decorations up until spring. Or it's like the friend of mine who dropped off her kids at school today and saw other kids piling up supplies for an upcoming event on a table and realizing she'd completely forgotten.

I've decided that pretty much 100% of people feel this way--and apparently, some local businesses too.

I find it oddly comforting that, whether consciously or unconsciously, the various store personnel who pass this sign every day have determined there are more important things to worry about than getting the sign down. It's not hurting business. It's not in the way. And hey, come November they'll be ahead of the game.

We are all such individual and collective messes.

Hallelujah.