Saturday, March 22, 2025

Manuel's Manual

I hate grocery shopping. I mean I absolutely hate it. I have to gear up to go, and even then, sometimes I back down and put it off for another day-or even another week. It exhausts me.

I used to love going grocery shopping. It was my day out when the girls were little. I loved good sales and seeing how much money I could save. I faithfully cut coupons every week. I loved seeing what I could do with my budget. Now I can hardly stand it. Food costs so much. It takes such organization to make the things I am able to afford turn into something we can actually eat! I am usually so worn out after work that I have a hard time keeping my social battery charged to make it through the store. And if I have to go to more than one store, well that's another ballgame all together. When I had my shopping buddy with me it was more fun. When it cost less it was easier. Before the Covid bizarreness it was more friendly. Now it's just a chore that makes me walk out of the store wondering how I could have spent that much money and have nothing to make for dinner! 


That being said, almost every Wednesday after work I set out to face the masses with a little money, and a lot of hesitant hope. After work I am usually spent-therefore I try to get through the store as quickly and with as few interactions as possible. I can be shy, to be sure. But since the Covid fiasco where we walked down opposite aisles with our faces covered and sorely lacking oxygen, facing the deluge of society's offerings seems much harder than it used to be. People turn away-just as we were trained to in 2020. I have to force myself to be aware of those around me and try to make contact if only with a smile. 


I recently set out on one of my excursions into the jungles of retailer greed. I was tired. I was running behind schedule. I didn't feel well. I was very disenchanted with many things I had dealt with that day. I felt distrustful of people around me, and I just didn't feel like going in for highway robbery via grocery merchant. As I pulled up into the parking lot of our local Winco, I sat in the car to gather my wits and take a deep breath before venturing out. My goal was to be fast-in and out of the store in 20 minutes or less. 
 

I was in the home stretch-only a couple more aisles to go, and I spotted him. A man coming towards me. My first instinct was to turn around and pick a different place to be. But something about him struck me. He looked like a 70's singing legend. A little weathered, ruggedly handsome, with long, feathered, jet black  hair that was reminiscent of my teenage years. As we walked toward each other, I knew I had to either engage, or run. He looked at me and I knew I had to smile and say hello. After I did so, he responded in kind, and then said to me, "Thank you for your smile. It lit up my day like our mountain." I must have looked puzzled because he went on, "Our beautiful Ben Lomond mountain smiles on us every day, and makes us blessed. Your smile does the same thing." I almost burst into tears. This alone made my day infinitely better, but we stood in the store and talked about many things that would also touch my heart and change my perspective. 



Our beautiful Ben Lomond Peak

I learned his name was Manuel. He has lived in the Ogden Valley his whole life. He has always loved our mountain. It gives him hope and happiness and a smile every day. He is 70 years old. He married his high school sweetheart, and they are more in love than ever. They have 29 grandchildren and 11 great grandchildren. He took his 11 grandchildren fishing a few weeks ago, and it was one of the best, most chaotic, most fulfilling days of his life. He loves children. He knows they are our future. He said there's no better calling than to do what I do-and work with children. He thanked me for doing it. 

Manuel asked about the blue streak in my hair. I told him it is in memory of my dad, but it has morphed into so much more in the almost 9 years since I put it in. He smiled, and told me, "I can tell. I can tell it's part of your heart and soul. It is you." I told him I loved his hair. He said, " I have never colored it. It has been this color my whole life." I was incredulous as to how he could still have such full, perfectly black hair without having done anything to maintain it. I asked, "How?"  At this point, he put his hand on mine and looked me straight in the eye with compassion and wisdom, and he said, "My dear, I don't worry about anything I don't have to. I trust in the plan and I don't worry about things I have no control over. I stay happy and grateful to be me, and to have my life." 

Oh my word-those words. Though all of us have heard a version of this, it struck me stronger than it ever has (though being Heather, it will take work to put this into play in my life, I am getting better, but am far from being able to put worry aside.)  I was amazed at this intentional meeting I was blessed to have with Manuel, and was more grateful than I can convey. I was quite overcome with emotion and profoundly aware that my life had been changed, if only for that twenty minutes with Manuel in the middle of the chip aisle of Winco. But I plan to work on those things so my life can be better from his wisdom. 

Manuel and I realized that time was going on, and parted ways, wishing each other the best and hoping we would bump into each other again someday. He told me to please remember the beauty in my smile, because it would change lives and make mountains. Not move mountains-MAKE mountains. Beautiful mountains, like our Ben. I spent the rest of the day in a daze. I went over the words that had been spoken to me by a seemingly random stranger-who-in real life was an angel that was sent to me in that specific moment to do specific things. It gives me goosebumps to think about it still. I hope I did as much for him, although just being with him made me believe I was. 

There are no coincidences. Whether you believe all things come from God-as I do, or you believe in a greater being, or energy, or karma, believe this was supposed to happen to me. Right then, right there. It put me in a whole new direction for the remainder of my day and I remember it often. I received the gift of Manuel's Manual of life. And I am grateful.