Givers 1.2 - To Walmart, and Beyond!

Provision is hard for me to ask for. Hard for me to expect. Because I fear. Fear that I'm being greedy, or prideful, or unworthy or lazy. But I am learning to trust Papa with my needs. I'm learning the importance of receiving as well as giving. That provision isn't just about money, food, and the various physical needs I tend to focus on (though Papa wants us to trust him with these). Our spirits need communion with Papa, and with people. Need to worship, to serve, to love and share. Here's a story about provision beyond the physical.

Givers 1.3 - To Walmart, and Beyond!

Jeremiah and I don't frequent Walmart often. The whole environment kind of freaks us out, to be honest. But on this day, we bit the bullet and made a trip. We needed the cheapest possible white t-shirts to decorate, and Walmart was our last hope.

We squinted under the florescent lights and made a beeline for the men's underwear section. Our mission: packaged undershirts.

We found our bounty, hastily decided on the package that contained the most for the least, plucked one pack of each size, and made another beeline for the register.

One register was separated from a cluster of open registers and a crowd of people. Twenty or so unused registers buffered us from the commotion. Our relief was immense as we stepped into line behind the man being rung up.

The woman checking and bagging products looked to be in her 30s. Short, curly, dishwater blond hair. Nothing stood out about her, except the expression of misery on her face. I was slightly offended by her poor customer service. She didn't say a word to the man ahead of us, except to inform him of his total. She didn't smile. She hardly looked up. The man rolled his eyes slightly and left without comment.

Before I could decide how to respond to this woman's attitude, I heard Jeremiah say "Hello, how's your day going?" His words were bright and sincere. Even my frustration dissolved into an honest desire to hear her response.

"Not well." She said quiet but firm.

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Jeremiah said. "Would you like to talk about it? I'd be happy to listen."

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes welling with tears. After a deep breath she said, "My best friend died a couple days ago. I just, I loved her so much. The police are opening an investigation for murder. I'm just so heartbroken."

Jeremiah and I glanced behind us. No one was in line. "Since there's no one waiting, would you be ok with some prayer?" I asked.

"Absolutely. And it wouldn't matter if there was a line," she said. Strength was returning to her voice already.

"We would like to lay hands, if your comfortable with that," Jeremiah offered. She was, noting that she was Seventh-Day Adventist (I think this was to suggest that laying hands was familiar to her, but I don't know much about Adventists.) With a quick peak at her name tag, he confirmed her name. "It's Susan, right?" We clasped hands across the counter, and prayed for several minutes. Someone walked up and paused in our line briefly, but decided better of it and walked away quietly.

Several tears and goosebumps later, we looked up at each other with relaxed lips and blushed cheeks. Susan walked around her register hugged us both. "Thank you brother, thank you sister," she said in turn. "God always knows exactly what we need before we even ask." We hugged again, and waved each other away with blessings.