“Hi, Mary! How was your weekend?”

“So you’re back, Mr. Trenton. It’s good to see you again!”

“How ‘bout that game on Saturday! The Cardinals are hot!”

“Such a yummy egg sandwich! Enjoy!”

“Hi Sally! How did it get to be Monday again?”

“How’s your mother-in-law doing after her hip surgery last week? She did take a nasty spill!”

 

So inches the line toward a slight woman wearing a white shirt and a black apron and standing behind the cash register in the hospital cafeteria. It is the breakfast crowd, come for their fix. However they began their day, they brighten to her wide smile like marigolds picnicking in the morning sun.

 

Perhaps there is another way of looking at such transactions. We have hungers, we yearn to assuage them through diverse means, and we sacrifice, willingly or unwillingly, to obtain them. Critical to this process is choice. Despite mistakes, we have Precious God as a change agent, a cashier of sorts, eager to enlarge our lives. 

 

Our cashier’s name is Phyllis. Her day is just beginning.

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