Skip to main content

Sonoma Family Life Magazine

An Angel Visited Me in the Grocery Store

By Pam Moore

Every time I take my kids grocery shopping, I return with a week’s worth of food and a lifetime’s worth of regret. Every time, I search my soul for an answer to the question: Why didn’t I do Home Shop?

Recently, I took the kids shopping after picking my three-year-old up from preschool. I had 80 minutes before we had to be home for lunch. In my mind, it seemed totally reasonable.  

I arrived at preschool pick-up a couple of minutes early. When my daughter saw me she pronounced, “I wasn’t expecting you.” We were off to a great start.

As we walked to the car, she took off running. 

“I need you to get in the car, please,” I called.

In response, she threw herself into a leaf pile.

We did not have time to frolic.

“Get. In. The. Car. Please.”

She burrowed deeper into the leaves as I scooped her into the car. She strained against me and then hit my arm.

“WE. DON’T. HIT.”

I seethed as I made a detour for a proper time-out. 

We did not have time for a time-out.

I directed her to an upside-down bucket in our garage, where she sat facing the wall for three minutes. I was exhausted and we hadn’t even made it to the grocery store. When we pulled up, the place was jamming.

We did not have time to search for parking.

After several loops around the lot, I slid into a spot, unbuckled the girls, and strode across the pavement as quickly as one can while carrying a 17-month-old and holding a three-year-old’s hand. As we approached the store, my toddler exclaimed, “They have the racecar cart!” Her favorite cart has all the maneuverability of a Mac truck.

I noticed it was soaking wet from the morning’s rain. I feigned disappointment.  “Aw honey, it’s wet! Let’s find another cart.”

By the time we entered the supermarket, my arm burned under the baby’s weight. I set her down in search of a dry cart and had no luck. To my horror, I turned around to find the baby toddling toward a tall drink display. I collected her, instructed my three-year-old not to move, dashed back outside, grabbed the racecar cart, and pushed it up the ramp with one hand.

I did not have time for a wet racecar cart.

Inside the store, I set the baby down, told my three-year-old to hold her hand, and tore off in search of a towel, looking over my shoulder as the baby lunged toward the tower of drinks. I grabbed a box of tissues from the service desk and sprinted back in time to prevent a Gatorade avalanche.

With the baby in one arm and tissues in the crook of the other, I tilted the cart sideways to drain some water. In my mind, it made perfect sense. In reality, it made a huge puddle. 

I considered going home.

And then an angel approached.

She had long, curly, black hair, glasses, and a loaf of bread. 

“Can I help you?” she asked.

I could have wept in gratitude.

“Um, yes...”

“What can I do?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

 “I’m not sure. I’m… overwhelmed.”

Just then, the service desk guy whose Kleenex I’d stolen appeared with a legit roll of paper towels. He ripped off a bunch and handed them to Angel Woman. I stood, holding the baby and my toddler’s hand while they wiped the cart and Angel Woman crooned to my kids.

“You are being so patient. You are both waiting so nicely. I’m a mommy, so I know how hard it can be for kids to be patient.”

We made eye contact and exchanged a smile. She didn’t have to mention she was a mom. I knew the moment I saw her that she really saw me. She didn’t see an idiot taking up the whole entryway with the RV of carts and a couple of unsupervised rugrats. She saw a tired mom with two kids, a wet cart, an empty fridge, and 45 precious minutes to get through the store.

Her small act of kindness meant so much. It didn’t mean my kids weren’t begging for turkey and bananas in the store or that I remembered my shopping list. But it meant that when I asked myself why I didn’t buy my groceries online, I knew: If I hadn’t come to the supermarket, I wouldn’t have been reminded that angels exist.

Wherever you are, thank you, Mama. 

This article was originally published on Scary Mommy.

Pam Moore is the host of the Real Fit podcast. Get her free guide to improving your body image at pam-moore.com.