Mystical moments in the cheese aisle

Mary DeTurris Poust (Courtesy photo of CINDY SCHULTZ)

On a recent rainy morning, I ventured up to Trader Joe’s on Wolf Road in Albany, armed with a vacation snack wish list from my daughter, Olivia, who would be meeting us the next day for a week at the Jersey Shore. Unlike others who make regular pilgrimages to this favorite grocery store, I am loathe to deal with the crowds. I had been there only once before because, as much as I love their wildflower bouquets and chocolate-covered almonds, I do not love that area of town or the insanity of running the parking lot gauntlet.

As my husband, Dennis, and I searched out items on our lengthy list, I did what I do any time I’m in an unfamiliar place, be it a new city or a new grocery store: I engage with the people around me, usually through some sort of goofy humor. Before I knew it, I was laughing with another mom in the trail mix section, as we both sought out particular mixes requested by our children. Later in the cheese section, not one but two women recommended an inexpensive-but-tasty cheddar they said I should not pass up. Done! Finally, a worker in the chip aisle came to my aid several times as I searched for a variety of unusual treats. I found myself giddy with the fun-loving community I found among the shelves, the kind of community that reminds me of what many of us are looking for when we go to our parish churches.

We go to church not just for Mass, to be fed by the Eucharist and the Word, but to be among those who are searching, just as we are, for something that is not always easy to find in this crazy world of ours. And just as we might shy away from a place in our everyday life that leaves us overwhelmed, we often do the same on the spiritual journey. Rather than dive in and sidle up to someone else who is trying to navigate the same challenging path, we try to figure it out on our own.

Our lives are busy. We often rush into Mass with only a few minutes to spare and rush back out again, not because we don’t want to linger, but because life and its demands can make lingering feel like a luxury or an impossibility. And yet those human interactions are vital to our lives as Christians and as compassionate people on a troubled planet.

My family often jokes about my penchant for striking up a conversation with anyone who happens to be near me — in the grocery store, the library, the doctor’s office. But I find that when I let down my guard and approach someone not as a stranger but as a companion on the way, they almost always respond with happy surprise. I have navigated entire cities like this, relying not on Google or Yelp to get me to locations or restaurants but rather the kindness of strangers and the good advice of those who have been there before.

And isn’t that a lot like our faith journey? We are all on the path together, and each of us has something to offer based on the way we have encountered God. It is only when we are willing to turn to strangers on the sometimes-challenging terrain of our spiritual landscape that we find the spiritual friends and the community that will point us toward the thing we are seeking and remind us that we are not alone.

I’m going to guess that most people don’t go to Trader Joe’s and come home with spiritual revelation packed up alongside the vegetable dumplings and sourdough bread, but the truth is that God’s mystery and majesty are always swirling around us. We think of mysticism as something only for saints who spend hours in contemplation, but it’s always right there, waiting to be plucked off a shelf and gathered into our heart.   

Mary DeTurris Poust is a writer, retreat leader and spiritual director living in the Capital Region. Visit her website at www.NotStrictlySpiritual.com.