On Candy Stores
And Being Invisible
When I was a young boy, the highlight of every week was getting my allowance. At first, my allowance was 10¢. Then it was upgraded to 25¢. Now you may find this hard to believe, but there was a lot you could buy with that amount of money! Ok, so now you know - I'm old.
With my allowance firmly in hand and my friends in tow, we headed down to the local corner store. On the way, we did reconnaissance as we scoured the area for lost change and empty pop bottles. Sometimes wecould almost double our vast financial holdings before ending the journey at the center of our universe - the candy counter!
When we got to the store, intense negotiations began. What were we going to buy this week? Were we going to pool our resources or fly solo? Was it a better deal to buy a surprise bag, or to custom select our stash? Make no mistake - these were big decisions that took razor sharp minds, and a steely resolve! I remember some of my favourites were: hockey cards, wax lips, Pix Mix, Jawbreakers, Double Bubble and Black Cat gum - which incidentally was great for making it look like you had lost your front teeth! But, probably my favorite of favorites was the ever popular two for a penny Kraft caramels.
Unfortunately, I also remember that several times our trips to the candy store were ruined by the attitude of the owner. Sometimes we would spend ten or fifteen minutes making life and death decisions only to then walk up to the counter, and have to wait until every adult in the store was served - including those who had come up to the counter after us! It was as if we didn't matter, as if we weren't real people, as if we were invisible.
Well, that all ended when I was nine and moved to Peterborough. From then on, or at least for the next few years until I grew out of such things, my candy store experience was forever changed. You see, right down the road from our house was an old general store. The store was falling apart. It was clear that it hadn't been repaired or painted in years. Most likely, because the man who ran it was 80 years old-- minimum! At least that's how it seemed through my nine- year-old eyes!
When you walked in the store, you knew you were walking into history. Thirty year old fishing lures were still hung on hooks waiting for someone, anyone to finally buy them and give them a home. Old Coke signs continued their decades old vigil of enticing customers to drink the "real thing"! Multicoloured cardboard packaging, faded by prolonged exposure to sunlight, beckoned us to explore the treasures of childhoods past. But what makes it such a sweet memory for me is that it was a safe place. A place where kids were welcome.
When you walked into the store, you automatically knew that the old man behind the counter wanted you there. You could spend the entire day looking at things, or you could just hang around and talk to him. Almost always there was extra candy in your bag! Fact is, it was clear to even our young eyes that he lived for the young people. He treated us as if we were important and our opinions mattered. We all knew that the only reason he stayed open was because he was lonely and he loved the company of the children who came to visit. He certainly didn't make any money off us!
Well, that old man and his store are long gone, and so is the house I lived in at the time! It seems like ancient history now, but at least I still have the lessons of the corner candy store. And what are they, you ask?
First, all people, even innocent, trusting children know whether they're being taken seriously, or not. I was five at the time that I did a lot of my corner store purchasing in Toronto. However, even at five, I knew and felt the cold injustice of being brushed aside for "more important", adult customers. Bottom line is that we need to give our children the attention they require. It's so easy to think that our adult world has more pressing concerns than the troubles of a five-year-old. But that's just not true. If anything, each problem, each rejection hurts a child far more than our 'legitimate' troubles hurt us. Why? Because their hearts are so open and innocent and their feelings so close to the surface.
Second, it doesn't take much to make someone feel special. The old man in the store wasn't particularly gifted in conversation; he didn't do magic tricks, or back flips; his store was more of a hindrance than an asset. My attraction to him was very basic - he liked me. He was just plain old nice. Guess what? Most of the problems in this world could be solved by being "just plain old nice."
You can't imagine what kind of impact just listening can make in someone's life. A brief phone call, a card, an email, showing the slightest interest can make a person's day! Our lives are busier. Our world is bigger. Our identities are more anonymous. Almost every day I get messages from people - total strangers who are reaching out to me because no one's reaching out to them. Fact is feeling invisible has become an epidemic. The up side is that taking notice of someone else, even in the most unassuming ways, has become a precious gift and an open door to sharing God's love. Go ahead, make someone's day. Let them know they're not invisible.
Prayer
Lord God, thank you for making me feel special by reaching out to me through Your Son. Lord, so many people feel forgotten, unimportant, and invisible. Help me to reach out to them by simply taking the time to be just plain old nice! Amen.
