November 22 – “We snuck off”

Ah, Saturday.  Welcome respite, not from the trials of a frantic business week.  Oh, no.  That’s old news.  And the rest from the frustrations of living in a Covid-ized Culture where you can’t see anyone smiling behind his mask doesn’t come until this morning at church. This was the relief from sitting at home and having nothing new to think about.  And so we tend to return to what is now old news.  Pains in the back.  Heart attacks.  Sermon reviews.  What we will wear for our family pictures next weekend.  College football is fun to watch, but it can only go so far when none of your favorite teams is playing. 

 

And so, we snuck off.  Not to some sub-exotic travel destination, though.  This time we were headed for … WalMart.  What more perfect stomping grounds for a break than where the abnormal is normal?  Oh we didn’t see anything weird this time.  And we weren’t there all that long.  After all, it was Saturday in WalMart on the weekend before Thanksgiving.  Tourists abounded, grabbing their provisions for the week – cokes and chips and fishing poles and all manner of alcoholic beverage.  Not so many beach toys, though.  The water is getting a little colder.  Although it not so cold that it has ceased creation of tropical storms.  Chris showed me yesterday that there is yet another disturbance drifting around out there near Florida.  Where do we go for names when we run out of Greek alphabet – Hebrew?

 

Anyway, we made our brief WalMart run.  Had to keep it brief because Chris does get winded easier than usual.  That’s her biggest frustration, other than keeping track of all the pills she has to take now.  We picked up some fruit and face lotion and a few extras for a heart-healthy breakfast.  They didn’t have the Thanksgiving ham Chris wanted, though.  Looking for something put out by Armour.  Maybe we can find one next week. 

 

I think maybe we were the WalMart oddballs people were watching this time.  At least when we got to the soft drink aisle.  It was kind of comical watching the two of us.  I’m still not supposed to lift anything more than a gallon of milk.  Chris has the same limitation, except it only applies to her right hand, where the arterial invasion took place.  To get the Pepsi’s and Root Beers into the cart, I knelt on the floor and slid them off the shelf and directly onto the bottom rack of the basket.  Meanwhile Chris held the basket so it wouldn’t roll away.  Teamwork at its finest.  That was kind of fun, though.  The hard part for me came when Chris had to carry them into our house with her left hand.  I could only watch.  Frustrating.  But we made it through the WalMart run none the less for wear.  We both crashed on the couch for a good while when we got back home.  Another day in the life of the post-surgical sixty-somethings …

 

Psalms 107:1 says, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.”

 

Father, thank you that we are still capable of getting around enough to enjoy the little things … like a WalMart run.  Amen.