9/25/08

I was the third person of six in an isle 7 pile up at the Belvedere Winn Dixie late last night. The hold up being a confrontation over a raggedy mans credit card, not totally matching up with his driver's licence. Both cards had been considerably defaced, enough to raise suspicion from the hesitant cashier. Other isles began to open up, and customers began to file into their vacancies. I stayed, content to be in the middle of the ordeal.

The man wore a bright purple ring and his finger nails were dirt filled. He wore no socks with leather slip-ons and his hair was rough and frayed. His over-sized tan jacket contained wrinkles of a likely nighttime pillow. He repeatedly called the cashier mama and stammered when he spoke, his hands shaking spastically at his sides. He mentioned running home to grab his checkbook as if he had something to prove, possessing his three bags of groceries like an early mother. I could feel his hunger pangs as he finally relinquished them from his grip to the apologetic manager.

It was at this point that he looked at me and shrugged his shoulders; began walking toward the door. And it was at this point that i affirmed my selfish and dead faith. "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," I said silently, as he walked out the entrance, his shattered hope and false identity evident in the way he hung his head. And there i stood, holding my hand over my back pocket, guarding my wallet, along with the cheap grace i keep hidden inside of it.

I turned as i slept, cringing at the realization that I had betrayed grace for thirty measly bucks. Now I play Judas, and would give anything to buy that man his groceries. What will it take before my greed costs me far more than a few dollars.