Tastes Like Chicken...

Philosophically, I would say that my life probably looks pretty attractive. I boycott McDonalds. I support a living wage. I don't support the war, but I love my soldiers. I don't believe Jesus was white, rich, Republican, nor American. But when philosophy intrudes on my reality, I'm a real bitch.

Case in point. I live a hectic grad student life. Three jobs, an internship, full course load, church, hubby, and two kitties. Last Friday, I actually found a sliver of time to go work out. Amazingly, afterward I had just enough time to run by the grocery store. Being (relatively) poor, by American standards, I chose Aldi. If you've ever shopped there, you can't help but have a strong emotional reaction to the Aldi experience. Hyped up on the excitement of basement prices, the aisles of Aldi are jammed full of customers frantic to escape. Buggies (rented for a quarter) are always piled high with boxes, cans, and produce with a checkout line longer than the wait for Space Mountain at Disneyworld.

As always, I was in a hurry. I zoomed around the aisles, throwing people food and kitty food into my cart. I was vaguely aware of a large family that seemed to have 4 or 5 of their own carts, filled to overflowing. When I made it to the checkout, I became alarming aware of this family, because all of them were in front of me. At first I was perturbed. I began examining this family that dare delay my plans for a shower, some makeup, and lunch before heading for a night shift at job #3.

Upon further examination, I realized that this family was not from my suburban world. Brightly dressed in multiple colorful, gay, clashing pagnes (wrap around dresses of sorts), their ebony skin shone and their tongues flickered with syllables that I could not discern. They had the most interesting items in those overflowing carts. The most popular item appeared to be frozen, fried chicken, followed by cases of coke and enough produce for an army.

But it was clear that this family did not understand the rules of my world. At first, one family member was in line in front of me. Then another family member with a full cart joined the previous, passing myself and 2 others in line. Then another. Then finally, one more until all four carts had "jumped" my concept of a line. No self effacing "forgive me" smiles. No kind nods, just marching right to the front of the line, cart in tow, as if family members should stay together at the expense of all else. At first I was peturbed. This literally could add up to an hour of waiting in line. Everyone else around me was clearly upset. People looked around uncomfortably, scuffed the cheap linoleum with their toe, unsure of what to do.

But something struck me at that moment. How unwilling am I to change my "rules" to accomodate new people? Sure, I donate to the refugee families hosted by my church. I sponsor a child through Compassion International. I complain how our government is negligent to the people in the Darfur region of Sudan. I may never buy another diamond again in my life. But when it comes down to daily living...to sacrificing an hour of my life to accomodate a family that is new to my neighborhood...I get peturbed.

Right there in Aldi, I began to chuckle. I don't know if it was the absurd number of boxes of fried chicken in the carts ahead of me or my own hypocrisy, but for some reason the situation seemed humorous. For the first time, it really stuck with me why I am so greedy. I despise being made uncomfortable. I don't move to the Congo because they don't have fried chicken frozen in a box. They don't have Aldi. And I don't know the rules.

And so, we all become uncomfortable when someone, something, challenges the rules that make us comfortable. That's why we all hate the social awkwardness of elevators. That's why we debate the appropriateness of breasts in church. So yeah, philisophically, I'm a relative Mother Theresa. But then I remember, it's not about the philosophy, it's about the living.