It all started so innocently……
Jack and I had moved to Big Stone Gap and were settling in preparing to run our used bookstore. Of course there were a dozen little household items we needed, that we either left behind at the old place or couldn’t find in the boxes festooned across our new home. Among these was my daily devotional Bible.
And some clean underwear, in case you’re interested.
We avoid Wal-Mart as a rule, but when you need a lot of detritus fast, and you’ve just spent all your money moving house, well, sometimes the runner stumbles. Up and down the aisles we trundled, filling the hand basket with dishrags (which I now crochet for us out of cotton thread purchased at BSG’s own craft store, Mendoo’s) cleaning products (which we buy at the locally owned drug store across the street) and my new devotional Bible–except the basket was pretty full so I carried the Bible and a six-pack of Hanes for ladies clutched against my chest. I didn’t mind if people saw me buy white cotton briefs, but I didn’t want anyone seeing what size they were…
As Jack unloaded the basket, I said, “Look, they have a McDonald’s at the front; shall I go ahead and pick up lunch so we can save time eating while we drive back?” (For those of you who have ever moved, you know that time slides away like the proverbial greased pig–which we were about to eat.)
Judge us freely, but there it is; we not only shopped at Wal-Mart, we purchased food at the conveniently located Mickey D’s inside it. We are going to Hell.
Leaving Jack unloading all those tiny items, I walked out of the store–straight through those little shoplifter-sensing beepy things. Apparently Wally-world doesn’t put sensors on Bibles or Granny panties.
I joined the long queue at the McDonald’s counter still clutching these now-stolen goods to my chest. It wasn’t until I set them unthinkingly on the counter to pay for the food that realization dawned.
The blood drained from my face; no doubt “THIEF” appeared in letters of fire across my forehead. The harassed burger flipper looked from my stricken expression to the undies and sacred text on her counter, then back at me. Without missing a beat, she reached under the counter and produced a burger bag.
“Here,” she said. “If it was me, I could just about explain taking them out of the store, but not trying to sneak them back in.” She glanced at the long line of impatient patrons behind me, then smiled. Leaning in, she beckoned me closer, and whispered, “Besides, I don’t really think God minds if you steal a Bible; just don’t tell Him about the underwear.”