Her name is Rebecca, and she greeted me cheerfully from across the room as I walked through the doors of The Mixing Bowl in Salida.

Before I had walked 10 steps into the store, Rebecca offered me water infused with fresh citrus (nice touch, by the way) and asked if I was looking for anything special.

This is a store so full of special even if you’re not looking for it, you’re going to find it. 

I have a coffee cup I bought there months ago that bears the visage of a blonde, June Cleaverish woman, three-strand of pearls around her neck and stick of oleo in her hand, declaring, “Well, butter my buns and call me a biscuit!”  

Gadgets galore surrounded me as I browsed, and Rebecca was really helpful in pointing out the new stuff. 

I thought of clerks and staff in other stores who not only are not helpful but are sometimes downright rude. Like the one today at a supermarket in a city other than Salida. “Rude” might be too polite a word, actually. 

I had placed my items on the conveyor, expecting a “hi” or “did you find everything?” or at least a nod in my direction. But the checker didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Instead, as her replacement came in, the first clerk turned and walked away.

Now, I’m sure she’d had a long and busy shift. After all, milk was selling for $1.86 a gallon all day long. But that clerk and others who have seen me swipe my debit card through their machines should take a bit of advice: I’m sorry if you’re in a bad mood, but if you want me to come back to your store, paste a smile on your face and tell me to have a nice day. 

You can take it on good authority from someone who spent her fair share of time in the testy camp that being nice is a lot easier than being not nice. Even faking it is a lot less effort than being not nice. Really. (I’m seriously not faking it.)

And you’d also do well to take a lesson from Rebecca, a genuinely sweet young woman who obviously wants visitors to feel at home in The Mixing Bowl. 

What a concept. 

As I looked at tiny mesh colanders (for tiny salads, I wonder?) and garlic presses and a very cool rice steamer, she asked, “Are you from Salida?” And I said no, that I live in Hartsel. To which she asked, “Do you know Kathleen Thomas who writes the column in the paper?” 

I am not kidding when I say that my throat tightened and my heart swelled, and I told Rebecca that I am, in fact, Kathleen.

She made my day/week/year when she said, “I love your column, especially when you write about Christian stuff. I think it’s so important.”

It’s important to me as well, Rebecca, and I so much appreciate knowing that you read my words and share my faith. 

To everyone else, I want to say this: It just so happened that she hit on something that especially touched my heart, but Rebecca was just as nice to another couple of shoppers who came in after me. 

She wasn’t consciously paying extra attention to me, but she sure showed me exactly where her own heart is. 

God blessed me when He crossed my path with Rebecca’s. And I know others who shop in The Mixing Bowl are also blessed by her sincere desire to help them find what they need and by her servant’s heart.

And that, I believe, is a grand concept from the One who conceived us all. Amen.

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