The Kindness of Strangers
I don't believe our local Walmart will ever be featured on the web under "The People of Walmart." We're a "small town mentality" kind of area where everyone knows, well, everyone. Most of the ladies I know will dab on a little lipstick and make sure they are presentable when they go to the "Mart." You never know who you will run into, and with a cat, two dogs, several fish and two lizards (don't ask), our family tends to be in Walmart at least once every week. The Greeters at the Mart know us well.
A couple of months ago, I had to hit the Mart for the aforementioned pets, and I was in no mood to either clean up, or dab on lipstick. Besides, it was past nine in the evening. Most of the Moms I knew would be trying to sit down for the first time in that day without hearing the cries of "Mom!" I however, knew that the hubby was home, and the drive alone would be a quiet comfort. What happened once inside, took me completely off guard.
I rounded the corner to the pet toys and treats, two walls of domestic animal bliss, and I froze when I saw the knotted mass of tug ropes for dogs. A small sob escaped me and I started to cry. We had lost Spud, a dog we had taken care of for over ten months, to a car accident after he had gone home to his owner. It was an accident that could have easily happened to any pet owner, and although Spud was never ours, we had loved him all the same. But the feelings of loss over a sweet and intelligent Jack Russell love bug, was the beginning of what was bubbling below the surface. Our family had been through the wringer. We had lost a sister, my nieces and nephews lost their mom, and two other nephews and a niece had also suddenly passed away, all within the space of less than two years. We were reeling, and although our loss was not the loss it was to my other sister, or to the rest of the family, none of us would be the same.
So there I was, late night in Walmart, standing in the pet toy aisle, blubbering like a baby. I felt a hand on my shoulder and Mr. William, the silver haired, silver tongued and genuine Greeter of Walmart said, "Sweet lady, what can I do?" I found myself sputtering out why I was crying before I knew it, and he held my hand and let me talk. This dear man, who only knew our family from our numerous trips for pet supplies, was comforting one person out of hundreds he saw every single day. He had already checked out for his evening work, and he was taking his own free time to comfort someone he only really saw in passing.
The comfort he gave was more than words, prayers, or the holding of a hand to someone in need. It was a salve to unexpected injury, and a blessing given freely. He walked the aisles of Walmart with me, with quiet patience and care. He told me he would keep me, and all of my family, in his prayers. He said, "Life is a mystery you jump into without understanding, and if you're lucky, for every sorrow you realize, there is joy in the love you have, and have had."
Whenever I go to the Mart, I seek out Mr. William and hug him. He does more than greet the many who pass by him during the day. I see that now. The kindness of strangers is more than a line from "A Streetcar Named Desire," it's what we can do for each other if we have the chance. It's a bidding of goodwill and empathy, and it's alive and well in our small town Walmart, in the form of Mr. William.
A couple of months ago, I had to hit the Mart for the aforementioned pets, and I was in no mood to either clean up, or dab on lipstick. Besides, it was past nine in the evening. Most of the Moms I knew would be trying to sit down for the first time in that day without hearing the cries of "Mom!" I however, knew that the hubby was home, and the drive alone would be a quiet comfort. What happened once inside, took me completely off guard.
I rounded the corner to the pet toys and treats, two walls of domestic animal bliss, and I froze when I saw the knotted mass of tug ropes for dogs. A small sob escaped me and I started to cry. We had lost Spud, a dog we had taken care of for over ten months, to a car accident after he had gone home to his owner. It was an accident that could have easily happened to any pet owner, and although Spud was never ours, we had loved him all the same. But the feelings of loss over a sweet and intelligent Jack Russell love bug, was the beginning of what was bubbling below the surface. Our family had been through the wringer. We had lost a sister, my nieces and nephews lost their mom, and two other nephews and a niece had also suddenly passed away, all within the space of less than two years. We were reeling, and although our loss was not the loss it was to my other sister, or to the rest of the family, none of us would be the same.
So there I was, late night in Walmart, standing in the pet toy aisle, blubbering like a baby. I felt a hand on my shoulder and Mr. William, the silver haired, silver tongued and genuine Greeter of Walmart said, "Sweet lady, what can I do?" I found myself sputtering out why I was crying before I knew it, and he held my hand and let me talk. This dear man, who only knew our family from our numerous trips for pet supplies, was comforting one person out of hundreds he saw every single day. He had already checked out for his evening work, and he was taking his own free time to comfort someone he only really saw in passing.
The comfort he gave was more than words, prayers, or the holding of a hand to someone in need. It was a salve to unexpected injury, and a blessing given freely. He walked the aisles of Walmart with me, with quiet patience and care. He told me he would keep me, and all of my family, in his prayers. He said, "Life is a mystery you jump into without understanding, and if you're lucky, for every sorrow you realize, there is joy in the love you have, and have had."
Whenever I go to the Mart, I seek out Mr. William and hug him. He does more than greet the many who pass by him during the day. I see that now. The kindness of strangers is more than a line from "A Streetcar Named Desire," it's what we can do for each other if we have the chance. It's a bidding of goodwill and empathy, and it's alive and well in our small town Walmart, in the form of Mr. William.
Comments
Post a Comment
Thank you so much for visiting, and commenting! We really appreciate it, we really do. We publish comments as soon as we are assured that you are not a robot or a spammer - in other words, low lifes need not apply.