June 10 – “Good deeds at WalMart”

I had a couple of interesting experiences after church Sunday.  They both happened at WalMart.  No surprise there, right?  One of the things I try to do when I go to any grocery store is grab a cart from the parking lot and take it in with me.  Serves a few purposes.  For one, it helps clear the clutter in the parking lot so more parking spaces stay open.  The other reason is it gives me something to lean on while I walk.  That’s code for “push it fast and then jump on and ride.”  Kind of a childhood thing for me, I guess.  I just think it’s fun.  Besides that way I’m guaranteed to have a cart when I get inside even if all of them are taken by the massive amounts of tourists in Galveston on a summer weekend, as happened to be the case yesterday.    So I selected my cart and started making my way to the store.  But just as I got to the final traffic crossing before being at the front door, a very nice young lady came up to me.  I say young because she was obviously younger than me.  I’m old enough to have earned the right to call anyone younger than me young lady or young man or even whippersnapper, for that matter.  So the young lady approached me with a big smile on her face.  I expected some kind of sales pitch or a request for a donation or maybe a request for me to listen to her spiel about Jehovah and the end of the world.  It was none of these, however.  She simply and sweetly said, “I would be happy to take that cart from you the rest of the way.”  I kind of stunned me, but I stopped and allowed her to have the cart.  I even said a big “Thank you” to give her some encouragement.  But I no longer had a cart.  Felt kind of weird for a second or two.  She was just trying to give the old geezer a hand so he wouldn’t have to walk all the way back into the store to return my cart.  Or maybe she was showing appreciation to the fire department.  I was wearing my GFD chaplain hat.  Oh, well.  I looked all around for a replacement cart, and it didn’t take more than a few steps to pick one up.  It was, after all, a weekend afternoon in the summer on Galveston Island.  Thanks for the help, young lady, whoever you are.

The second event happened inside.  Once again the WalMart powers that be decided to switch some stock around, and I couldn’t find the iced honey buns.  I know.  Doesn’t sound very healthy, does it?  But I only eat one once a week – on Sunday so I don’t have to wake Chris up so early.  As I wandered around the bakery department, I heard someone approaching from behind.  He spoke, but I didn’t understand what he said.  It sounded kind of like Spanish, but not exactly.  I turned and the guy realized what he had said, so he switched gears and said again, this time in English, “I just said, excuse me please.  I forgot I was practicing my Portuguese.”  He worked there, so I quickly  noted his nametag – Frank.  I had seen him there many times.  He could even have been one of those rare commodities at WalMart, a full-time employee.  Don’t know that for sure, though, because once I smiled and said hello, he decided it was an opening to strike up a conversation.  And by “conversation,” I mean “monologue.”  Frank is from Colombia, but has been here in Galveston for years (14, I think he said).  He has taught himself five different languages.  No education beyond high school, though.  No classes.  No self-help tapes.  He just finds someone who speaks the language and talks to them … a lot.  Currently he is allowing some Phillipinos to live with him so he can learn their dialect.  He also regularly skypes with some people in Russia so he can talk to them as well.  He has hosted numerous foreign exchange students.  I heard a little about his hard life growing up, because he is currently concerned about his nephew, who is, “like many kids in this generation,” taking everything he has for granted.  Seems Frank also has a successful lawn care business along with his WalMart job.  He doesn’t live from pay check to pay check, and he is quite proud of that.  In fact, when he sees little kids come in who are from the burn unit, he goes out of his way to give them a little extra money to spend.  And the best part of his long life explanation?  He attributes everything good in his life to God.  Attaboy, Frank.

Psalms 94:18-19 says, “When I said, ‘My foot is slipping,’ your love, O Lord, supported me.  When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.”

Father, thank you for the kindness shown me from the young lady and from Frank.  Bring joy to their souls.  Amen.