Doing the Right Thing

I had succeeded. The two temporary residents of our farm, two sheep I had recently adopted, had eaten their fill of lush, green grass for almost two weeks, and it was time for them to take up residence elsewhere. I did my part to accommodate them, but it was time to take them to the sale barn. It was a milestone, a time to move on, a check off on my checklist.

Whew!

My first experience as a farmer to enter the world of the livestock auction was a pleasant surprise. After a time of trying to sell them online, I had given up hope on a guy who said he was coming to purchase them. He had good intensions, but he had continual life challenges that hadn’t allowed him to show up, time and again. So, the time came for the two sheep, which really didn’t belong with our existing herd of sheep, to take a ride to the sale barn.

Loading up the sheep into our trailer went really well, especially given the gentleness of the animals and their desire for feed. While they didn’t care much for the ramp leading up into the trailer, a continual rattling of the feed in the bucket helped them overcome that fear and up they went. Once they began gorging on feed, I closed the trailer gate, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed toward the state line enroute to the auction just over thirty minutes away.

The trip was uneventful, the way you’d like for it to be while hauling live animals. I arrived in no time at all, backed up to an unloading area and was quickly helped by several guys happy to take care of me. I gave them information and then watched them run my sheep down a labyrinth of gates and holding pens to await the auction later that evening. My animals joined the ranks of a variety of other sheep, goats and horses.

Happy to be on my way and having made good time, I was determined to stop by the grocery store, a short jog out of my way, to pick up our list of needed items before heading home. I was in no particular hurry, but my usual efficiency of not lingering in the store got me out in no time at all. Because I had parked a good ways out in the parking lot due to having the trailer I was towing, the walk was longer than normal. It didn’t matter much, especially since I hadn’t done any exercise walking that day, but I did want to get on home.

Loading the groceries into the truck, I carefully placed the bags inside, one by one, and then discovered something I hadn’t paid for – three small Roma tomatoes. Those little tomatoes had become our go to items for salads, burgers and sandwiches, especially because of their reasonable cost. There I was, out in the middle of the parking lot on the back side of Egypt with my stinky livestock trailer and farm truck, knowing full well I hadn’t paid for those three little inexpensive tomatoes.

Into the store I went, carrying my tiny bag of three tomatoes.

I had been in those situations before, especially when in a huge hurry. You get out to the car, only to discover something you hadn’t paid for. And back in the store I’d go. In past years when this has happened, I would get a little self-righteous, knowing I’d have to tell a person, “Hey, I forgot to pay for this.” Many times, I would get my ‘way-to-go’ award and gloat to myself all the way back to my car feeling as if I’d saved the world or something. Other times the person behind the counter would look at me like I had a third eye in my forehead, like I was some kind of weirdo for being so honest.

In this self-checkout age, and especially when even the humans working behind the counter are lifeless and lack personality, it’s tempting to drive away. Things go through your mind, like, “Everything else I paid for cost too much anyway, so that makes us even.” But does it?

I arrived inside the store, walked over to the self-checkout, weighed my three tomatoes, took out my card and swiped it to add my sixty-seven cents to the deep coughers of money I knew this store had at their disposal. And then I walked out with my paid-for tomatoes.

Nobody cared, nobody applauded, nobody noticed. The manager didn’t run out to announce my candidacy for customer of the year. Nothing happened.

Off to the backside of the parking lot I trudged in my well-worn work boots and farm-dirty jeans. I hopped in my farm truck pulling my sheepless trailer, headed home.

Have I always done what was right? Probably not. But I believe this is loving our neighbor, our enemy or whoever comes our way. Sometimes it may mean helping the big store that we think doesn’t need our sixty-seven cents. Other times we may need to lend a hand to others who may need sixty-seven cents or a lot more.

“If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.” Romans 12:18