A Prayer for a Good Man and His Family

Posted on November 1, 2008
Filed Under Daily | 4 Comments

Every once in a while I poke around at Salvation Army to see if they have anything good. I pop into Good Will from time to time to look for old dresses, vintage paintings, maybe a glass vase.
I usually always leave with something.

Recently I stopped at a Good Will store in the city on my way home from work. As I made my way through the store, I picked up a lamp, a painting, some decorative pieces and a 70s cocktail dress.
I had to use quite a bit of self-control when I walked passed an $80 table covered in decorative tiles — and the vacuums (it’s a long story).

I felt a little strange as I browsed slowly through the shelves of miscellaneous items.
I know that many people don’t like shopping at used-goods stores but I’ve never had a problem with it.
That there were a number of families in the store looking at baby clothes, dishes, furniture and toys. Hardly any of the shoppers were speaking English – the one’s who did spoke with thick foreign accents. I started to wonder how many of these people were refugees, immigrants or even homeless. For a moment I questioned my personnel ethics. Was it unfair to buy these things when there were real people that couldn’t normally afford them? Was what I was doing comparable to drinking bottled water around children who didn’t even have clean water?

I saw a young Hispanic man eye my purse that I left in my cart a few feet away.
I threw it on to my shoulder and moved to the other side of the store.
Great. Now I was selfish and racist.

A friend of mine that used to volunteer at Good Will told me that the more people that shop there the better. Proceeds from sales help people from all walks of life, and when items on the  go toward helping people of all ages and nationalities and when items on the floor sell, new items can be brought out from the back. And apparently there is a lot of stuff we can’t see. New items on the floor mean more sales, and thus more money spent for a good cause.
I took another look at what I put in my cart. I felt good about what I found and reminded myself that every person on earth will get his or her fair share – even if it’s a lampshade that’s worth $5.99.

I got in line behind a woman who was fighting with the man behind the register. Her older son wanted a helmet and the younger boy had an Incredible Hulk toy. She was arguing that the price should have been reduced and even her little boys had the nerve to put in their two cents. Eventually, when the manager came over the woman paid the asking price and left.
I moved forward and placed my things on the counter. As I dug through my purse in search of my wallet the man behind the register spoke to me.

“You have a young and innocent face and I can tell you’re a good person,” he said.
“So I’m going to ask you for something. Please pray for my son. He’s sick.”
I froze mid-search and looked up. It took a moment to register what he just said.
“He’s 4 years old,” the man said when we made eye contact.
Then he smiled, and continued bagging my things.

It was such an awkward moment yet so strangely intimate at the same time.
I was at a total loss for words and felt my face get hot and my eyes fill with tears.
The transaction was complete and I still hadn’t said a word — though I so badly wanted something meaningful and profound to find its way to my tongue.
But instead, I spontaneously asked, “What’s his name?”
“Mohammad Nabeel,” he said.

As I carried my bags to my car I said a silent prayer for that little boy and his family – not only because I was asked, but also because that little boy has a very special name.

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