Of Being Lost -Then Found, Senior Moments & Finding God in the Parking Lot of Wal-Mart

Of Being Lost – Then Found,  Senior Moments & Finding God in the Parking Lot of Wal-Mart

I was leaving the Wal-Mart checkout –87.00 lighter, and ended up pushing my cart aimlessly down two rows looking for Michael’s big red truck. It was nowhere.

 I aimed towards one that was in the right spot – but it was the wrong truck. So, I looped another row.

A woman in a bright pink shirt said,

 “you’ve got that “I’ve lost my car” look…did you?” 

“Is it that obvious?”

“Oh yeah.  It happens to me all the time.  What are you looking for? 

“A red Explorer w/ Air Force Academy plates.”

“Does it have the fancy key?”

“Yes”.

“Then call it.”

“What?”“Push your panic button.”

“Well, I’m not quite panicking yet…”

“No, use your panic button to call your car…it will answer you.”

You see there – I learn something new every day. I wouldn’t have thought of that in a million years. So, I pushed the panic button.

To my complete shock, my car, not Michael’s answered me back about four aisles over and in a completely different spot than I’d remembered parking.

So, I push my cart through the parking lot careful to not ding anyone’s paint and arrive at the trunk of my car at the exact same time as did Frank and Hazel Johnson.

Frank was the first to pipe up:

 “Hey, I betcha just lost your car didn’t ya?”

Frank is about 80 years old and wearing his Sunday Go To Town outfit that I’m sure Hazel laid out for him even though it’s not yet Sunday. 

I smile at Frank, laughed and admit to having lost my car.

“The good thing about being 77” says Frank, “is being able to brush that kind of stuff off to a Senior Moment.  Senior Moments – what glorious things those are!  They Happen on me all the time. Not just the car- but my glasses, my pen, whatever I happen to be looking for.”

“Oh yes” piped up his wife of 55 years -  Hazel.  “It’s so good to be this age.”

Hazel is dressed in her Sunday Go To Town dress sporting a huge white lacy collar and a very modern Eva Gaborish looking wig. Now, I didn’t know she was wearing a wig until…

Until Hazel patted her head and whispered,

 “This isn’t my real hair, I lost it to chemo last year and now it looks funny, but I used to be a blonde…being 75 now means I no longer get the blonde jokes or get called ditsy.  Nothing but Senior Moments from here on out for me.”

Frank smiled with the patience of a man who was about to hear a story for perhaps the tenth or twentieth time as Hazel continued:

“Now last year? I was certain some one had stolen my car – but it turns out – I went out on the wrong side of the Sear’s store and had gotten it all turned around. I’d gone in on the panties side, and gone out the men’s robes side without knowin’ it.”

“When the policeman who was driving me around the mall spotted my car for me? I said Senior Moment! – and it was all O.K.!” 

Hazel was beside herself giggling.

“Yeah” Frank piped up, “your car horn found you about the time I was closing the door on my car – liked to have reset my pacemaker when it started beeping.  You got a real fine horn there young lady.”

Then it was Frank’s turn to tell me a story.

“ The car we had before we last traded for this one? When I’d hit the wrong button the doors would fly open, the horn would blare and the lights would start flashing…it was something else. Never got the hang of that car, so I got rid of it.”

"So, you’re pretty young, how’d you lose your car?

“Well, I’m headed down to Mobile for my mother’s heart surgery on Monday and guess I’m a bit overwhelmed today…not thinking.”

Frank pats his chest saying,

“Been there done that. I see you got a military sticker in your windshield.  Are ya’ll in the service?”

“My husband is, but he’s off right now.”

“Over in Iraq?”

“Yessir.”

“Terrible mess this war is. I served my time in WWII in Europe, it’s a tough thing, but I had Hazel here to come back to. Is he coming back for your mom’s surgery?”

“No sir – he’ll be over there. I’ve got a friend coming to take care of our son, the animals and the house for a week or so.”

“Well, I’ll tell ya what.   Hazel and I go up to prayer meetin’ in Vilonia twice a week, we’ll be sure to put your mama’s name on the list next time we talk to god.”“

Well, thank you, I’d appreciate that…I’m sure she will too.”

While I listen to Frank and Hazel – I wondered if my grandparent’s ever stopped and talked to strangers in parking lots, told stories and shared their innards with the unsuspecting.

I like to think that they did, I can see my Arthur and Ethel in the manifestations of Frank and Hazel Johnson.

And as I stood there with the cool fall wind blowing on my face, Frank and Hazel tell me a few more stories.  

And? Suddenly I wasn't in a hurry to get home.

I was fine standing right where I was.

I felt  a sense of peace. A sense of direction.  

A sense of how good the lord is at finding me when I’m not looking for him.

Hazel and Frank, said goodbye  and left me there to unload my cart.

It hit me on the way home that for all I knew they dematerialized the second they were out of sight.

They could have been angels of the heavenly sort.

Or they could simply be Frank and Hazel Johnson of the Sunday Go To Town clothes generation, who attend prayer meeting twice a week up in Vilonia. 

Angelic, either way.