Friday, July 17, 2015

People of Wal Mart

If you are anxious to read another really good one-arm story, you are in for a new kind of treat. This one is an older story (happened back when I was dating Porter), but it's a good one.

We were making our way to Loa for an Easter celebration. Let me tell you, until you have rolled eggs and had a subsequent battle with those hard-boiled puppies, you haven't celebrated Easter in a proper manner.

 Porter's mom calls us up and asks us to stop at Wal Mart to pick up some candy. You know, Cadbury eggs, Peeps, the works. Obviously, there was no resistance on our end. Candy shopping is the best kind of shopping.

We walked up and down the candy aisle several times before we felt like we had enough for the occasion. We made our way to the check-out line.

Standing in front of us was a young Mom. She had a baby tucked under her arm, another sitting in the cart screaming, and then two kids grabbing every item off the news stand. She looked exhausted and overwhelmed. It was one of those moments as an observer where you seriously consider never having children. A customer standing behind me also watching this episode muttered under his breath, "Sucks to be her."

She was getting ready to pay and make the long trek out to her car to load it all up. Her cart was stacked.

What happened next is something I will never forget.

Porter handed me his credit card and asked if I could buy our candy and meet him out at the car. I said I could manage that. He then turned to this stressed out Mom and offered to help. He pushed her groceries out, and with his one hand, I watched him load cases of water bottles, giant bags of flour, and millions of canned goods into her trunk.

There were probably ten other people standing in that line with two perfectly functioning hands. We all stood and watched that mom struggle. Yet the one who is looked at as "handicap" or "disabled" was the only to offer a helping hand, and he ironically only has one of those.

We had talked about marriage before, but in that moment I knew I had to snag him before anyone else had the chance to.

Little did I know that I would be a benificiary of thousands of those tiny acts of tender service.

He would be the one who would fill up my car with gas when I forgot it was low.
He would be the one to clean the dishes so I could relax after dinner for a little longer.
He would be the one to hold me, with the only arm he has, as I cried on the hospital floor after losing another baby.

I feel pretty lucky just to know him.

I don't think anyone is as grateful as me that you were born, Porter.

Happy birthday best friend,