God shops at Walmart!

In December of 2011, I got married and moved to Arizona. You already know that, and it's a good thing. But, let me tell you - when you're in your 60s and accustomed to being single, it is not always an easy thing. 

On one of my pouting Penny days, I drove to Walmart for some shopping therapy. I wandered the aisles, but didn't buy much. Then, as I started towards the door, I noticed a frail blond-haired man, probably in his 30s. He was riding in a scooter that was smaller than adult-sized.

From my vantage point, he seemed to have already purchased several bags full of merchandise. Now, he was making a second run at another pile with his remaining cash. As he and the cashier sorted through several items of clothing, I watched him pull bills and change from a small coin purse. Several customers waited in line behind him.

That's when I heard from God. With an almost tangible shove, He said, "Get over there."

"Could you use some help?" I asked, stepping closer to a few feet closer to the counter.

The young man's smile confirmed to me that he could. Now that I was standing closer, I could see how complicated this whole transaction had become. Not only was the young man wrestling with the proverbial too-much-month/too-little-money, but he could hardly even reach the counter top from his scooter!

I joined in on the sorting and counting, and offered him my name. A smile never left his face as he pointed to a small plastic license plate on the front of his ride and mumbled, "Scott."

When the cashier finally totaled this second group of items, Scott was still a bit shy on cash. That's when I whipped out my card and swiped it. (Besides being confined to a chair while shopping, Scott clearly didn't have this luxury, either.) Not wanting to embarrass him, I accepted his remaining cash as partial payment. But, honestly, the total wasn't much. (I've wasted more on a single cosmetics run!)

Then, I threw what I could into his scooter basket and the rest into my own. "Okay, Scott. You lead the way."

Under my confident-sounding voice, I was actually wondering where we would go from there. Five miles down the road? Him with motorized transportation and me with a shopping cart? I could already hear my husband grumbling about my naivete. 

Luckily, a van was parked right by the door - the assisted living sign assured me all was well. As the driver jumped out and lowered the lift, he asked me. "You work for Walmart?"

"No," I heard myself say. "I work for God."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, then I guess I do, too."

Now, why am I telling you this? Because I, in this one instance, helped someone out? Hardly!

I'm writing because Scott turned my self-absorbed pity party into a valuable life lesson. In the days since then, I have often seen his smile and asked, Who is more handicapped? The guy in the scooter or the gal with the chip on her shoulder? (See below: I have already answered this, so you don't have to.)

So, the next time you catch me whining about Mesa, Goldendale, or a broken fingernail, I'm giving you permission to call me on it. Four words oughta do it: "Remember Scott at Walmart?"

This is how I see God. He hangs out at Walmart.

The Easter Bunny Lives!

On a lighter note:

In Mesa, I love the hoots, coos, and tweets of the quail and pigeons arguing every morning as the sun comes up. But, the adorable long-eared cotton tails the size of a cube of butter are my absolute favorites! So, when my cat murdered (!) and then dragged one inside the house recently, I became quite unsettled! (I made Gene deal with the bunny's carcass.)

Today, when a live one hopped inside, I flipped out! Grabbing the cat beside me, I ran to shut him inside a bedroom. Then, I screamed for Gene to come help and jumped up on the couch (because the little bitty bunny was going to hurt me. Right?)

Shaking his head at the crazy lady (aka his wife), Gene diligently tracked down the creature hiding behind books on a shelf. Then, he carried the squeaky little thing outside by the ears. 

"My hero!" I said, throwing my arms around him. "You just rescued me from the Easter bunny." 

The moral of this story is, . . . oh yeah, there isn't one. I just wanted you to know that life here in the desert can be difficult, and there are wild animals!