It’s just her now.
The two of them built the retail business together over 35 years. Now she counts the days since one of the nation’s most prestigious hospitals could not help him and he died.
She counts the days since he’s been gone and when the store is empty she cries.
He was the spine of the business. Back of the house. What it takes to do retail and do it really, really well. That feel for the buying that makes the selling possible. She was front of the house. Those hearty, smiling, hand clapping welcomes, as every guest in the store became a friend of the family. No monotone “Can I help you” here. She instead would greet the stronger with a warm and all encompassing “I’m here for you.”
It’s just her now.
The air conditioning sputters out. Street folks wander in the front door that she always keeps open. One grabs a piece of merchandise out of a customer’s hands and runs. Four hours later the cops come by. I ask some cops on bikes to look in on her.
The retail hours are long. We help with talking through hiring. Maria brings cookies—her bakery ministry. The crushing summer heat eases up for a moment as she rings up a sale and there is just the trace of an autumn wind coming through the open door into the store.
And she keeps going. Terrified she won’t make it, but she keeps the hours, fends off the suppliers he used to control and pours out thanks for those who walk in the store with even the smallest act of kindness.
What makes a job that doesn’t die? First, it’s showing up. It’s carrying on. And she does that in a way that would have made him both proud and relieved.
Second, it’s “practicing stewardship.” Taking care of something larger than one’s self. This little store in the middle of the sprawling, hard and often scary city that always has an open door. Even when it’s closed, it’s open. So a man from some far away country comes in, and buys a soulful amber necklace. And after the sale is done, she says to him, she with the job that will never die, says, “May I give you a crystal?” The man’s face goes puzzled but he says “Sure.” And she unlocks the display and grabs a small handful of golden stones. “Here,” she says, “this is the one I can feel. This one is for you. And today I’m taking this other one for myself. These are Golden Healer quartz. They enhance joy and peace. Hold a Golden Healer to connect with the light of the universe. Golden Healers clear blockages and imbalances for multi-level healing. Its energy is both powerful and soothing.”
The man holds the gift. He’s never believed in this kind of thing. But he is still for a moment and he can feel something. Something different. Something peaceful. He smiles and says “Thank you.”
And in that thanks is the stewardship, the taking care of something larger than her.
In that “thank you” is a job that will never die.