I was newly pregnant with our ninth baby on the day I read that letter in the church bulletin, in a fragile and hormonal state, exhausted and overwhelmed. It didn’t take much to make me cry during those days. This new baby and his next older sibling were going to have the closest age gap we had ever had between siblings, following on the second closest age gap right above that. In short, I was contemplating how I was going to live everyday life that coming fall with a new baby, and almost two year old and a barely four year old, on top of a grueling school schedule for all the older kids.
It’s true, I was tackling too much in my mind then; trying to carry tomorrow’s cross. But that was my mindset when I picked up that bulletin and read about how not returning shopping carts in a grocery store parking lot was an example of the relativism in our culture.
The letter talked about how we, as a culture, tended to think only of ourselves and what was good or easy for us, and how that was an example of relativism. The priest had a point. I see these attitudes in myself and those around me more often than I care to admit.
In my own mind, however, I was walking through a shopping trip with a new baby, an almost two year old, and a four year old. I would strap the baby on my chest in a carrier, put the two year old in the shopping cart seat, and tell the four year old to hang on the cart at all times. In this way I could smoothly make it through at least a third of the store. At that point the baby would probably be getting fussy and the two year old would be starting to stand up in the seat. Even giving up on the shopping trip at this point wouldn’t be much help, because I would still have to navigate the checkout line and pay while bouncing the baby and trying to hold on to the toddler’s clothes so she wouldn’t tumble out of the cart and crack open her head. The four year old would be tired of riding the side of the cart and tired of walking and would be lagging behind by this time. Somehow we would make it to the car, groceries paid for and shabbily bagged and then would come the next big hurdle – loading. I would strap everyone securely in their car seats and turn on the air conditioner and then finally I would have two hands to throw the groceries in the car as fast as possible.
And then I would leave my cart right there by the parking space, because I believed that was the safest thing to do in that situation.
Does that make me relativistic? Was I planning to do what was best or easiest only for me? Maybe.
In my hormonal haze, I cried over this issue on and off for a couple of days. My husband pointed out that I could park near a cart corral, to which I relied, “BUT WHAT IF I CAN’T???”
As I began to calm down and remember that this scenario wasn’t one that would happen every time I shopped and that I had months before this exact thing would come to pass (and it did) I decided that no matter who pontificated over this particular issue, they were not dealing with what I was dealing with, nor were they fully aware if the tools and abilities I had at my disposal on any particular day. My priorities for a chaotic shopping trip ran like this:
- Safety of my children
- Acquiring groceries for my family
- Putting the cart in a cart corral
Most to the time, those priorities don’t conflict with one another. But when they do, I have to do the best I can.
This situation reminded me of another parking lot scenario: a friend of mine who deals with heart problems and has a handicapped placard for her car. She has been yelled at for taking up a handicapped space when she doesn’t look handicapped. The people who see her walk into the store assume that they know her whole story and what her abilities are. They don’t.
All this is not to say that we don’t have a responsibility to return our shopping carts. We do. But when we see someone who doesn’t (or who parks in a handicapped space in spite of not appearing handicapped) maybe it is best to assume that we don’t have the whole story. A better assumption is to give the person in question the benefit of the doubt.
This shopping cart temper tantrum and my friend’s experience helped me to remember to look at people and think about what their story might be. I only make guesses. That man who just cut me off in traffic – maybe his child is really sick. That grouchy lady at Target – maybe she just got a big unexpected bill and is trying to think how she is going to pay it. The lady who gave my kids a dirty look in the library – maybe she was just looking at them, and she didn’t realize what her expression was at the time. There are so many people, so many possibilities, it is a tiny exercise in charity to assume the best in people, even when they are behaving badly. Sure, some people are just jerks. But I would rather err on the side of understanding and forgiveness than to go around mad or annoyed at people all the time. It helps me be a happier person.
I love this! It’s difficult to do this also having worked in law enforcement for a few years now because it’s so easy to make snap judgements of people to “grow up” or “get over it” and I forget that though many of these people really do just need to graduate the childishness of high school and civilly exchange their children without having to get the police involved, some of them legitimately need help! You have inspired me. Thank you.
I know this is way late, but I just found this post. There is a solution! When I had little kids I never had to make the choice because the grocery store where I shopped had people standing out front who would wait with my groceries while I took the kids to the car, wait while I drove up, and then load the groceries into the car. In other words, the solution need to be provided by the store. I am sure that not only are there some people leaving their carts out of real desperation, and having three little kids with you at the store counts as desperation, there are also many who are wondering why they even had to bring their groceries all the way to the car and load them themselves. In other words, the solution SHOULD be provided by the grocery stores.