I was out shopping the other day (a rare treat for a Wednesday) and I noticed that I was feeling much like I did while I was pregnant with Kyle.  No, I’m not pregnant.  What felt wierd back then, and again Wednesday afternoon was that my hips were out of whack and it felt like one leg was longer than the other.  So, I walked around the store wondering what might have caused this and thinking I might need to make an appointment with my osteopath.

Once I got into the dressing room I found a much cheaper solution:  wear shoes that match eachother.  Of course, they were the same color, but apparently that’s not all that matters.  And this was just my first stop.  Hope nobody noticed.

I was leaving Wal*Mart yesterday and left my cart at the top of 2 parking spaces, rather than returning it to the cart bin.  I didn’t really think about it; sometimes I take it to the bin, sometimes not.  An older man was just parking in the space in front of the cart and he started ranting about “lady, you’re lazy”.  I ignored him and got into my car.  He got out of his car and went over to the cart, pointing and yelling about how lazy I was and why didn’t I return the cart to where it’s supposed to go!!?  I wanted to yell back that he should mind his own business or sarcastically ask him how my actions interferred with his life, or does he always yell at complete strangers or assume the worst about others.  Honestly I was too scared to say anything to him; anyone THAT upset about a stupid cart might have come after me if he thought I was being disrespectful.  Now, I have left carts for many reasons before.  I was in a horrible rush.  Or it was cold out or raining.  Or I had little kids in the car and didn’t want to leave it.  This time I actually was being lazy (and I approached my car from the front and couldn’t get by to the back without the cart scratching my car).  But that’s beside the point.  It was just plain none of his business.

After I drove away and started thinking of the things I would’ve said if I’d had backup (David or Sarah), a little voice told me to pray for him.  Okay.  “Lord, please afflict this man…no, that’s probably not the right thing…let someone else get in this guy’s face the same way he’s…how exactly do you pray for a jerk?  What I want is for him to yell at a bigger jerk than he is, and jerk #2 will make him regret ever yelling at anyone his entire life.  What God wants is his heart.  I’m starting to understand how Jonah was feeling when God wanted him to warn Nineva of his coming wrath and he didn’t want God to have mercy on them.  They didn’t deserve mercy.  Neither did the jerk.  Neither did I.