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My husband tells me I need a chaperone for my weekly pilgrimage to Costco. He’s not wrong. I go to buy a six-pack of our family’s favorite mega-sized muffins – two packs for $9.99! – and come home with a new set of luggage.
Costco is one of my happy places. Yes, I love the deals, but my Costco is also so neighborly. Whole families show up so their kids can skip between sample stations. The employees appear to enjoy their jobs. The checkout line often extends to the back of the store, but people say “excuse me” and “thank you” as we maneuver titanic carts. The line moves fast because Costco is a well-run machine, allowing us to wait patiently, knowing our turn will come soon enough.
Is it strange to say Costco gives me hope? We can develop business models that work and systems that promote good, neighborly behavior. The food court is always packed with people young and old, diverse in race, religion and culture, like the banquet table in the kingdom of God. I’ve never eaten at Costco, but I am always tempted to join the smiling faces eating slices of hot pizza and cups of soft-serve ice cream.
A mom with three young kids is ahead of me today at checkout, apparently preparing for the apocalypse, with a cartful of bottled water; sacks of navel oranges, onions and potatoes; a 24-pack of Greek yogurt; a 30-roll pack of toilet paper. When a bag of potatoes falls and spills across the floor, people around her – me, the Costco staff, our neighbor in line – all gather the escapees. She’s grateful for the help. I’m grateful for neighbors such as these — and for glimpses of who and how we can be with each other, in community, shopping at Costco, living together in this world.
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