The Devil in Walmart
Some people’s behavior will astound you
A first-time mother struggling with her overtired toddler. The toddler massively melting down in a crowded megastore. The helpless mother, recovering from surgery to repair a severely broken leg.
Awkwardly steering a motorized shopping cart, unable to get up without my rented crutches. My toddler daughter threw herself to the floor in front of the eggs and yogurt, kicking and screaming for what felt like hours.
Limited in what I could do, with my words inadequate to calm and comfort my inconsolable child, I was on the verge of tears. My nerves as broken as the eggs would likely soon be.
Many people passed by and gave me scathing looks, disgusted with my daughter’s behavior and my perceived failure to respond.
A woman stopped to inform me that I needed to take my daughter to a priest to “get the devil out of her.” Overwhelmed with despair and embarrassment, my eyes began to leak their dammed-up streams.
Finally, a kind older woman stopped, her hair and matching sweater as grey as my day: “What can I do to help you?”
Renewed tears were my response.
“May I touch your daughter, try to comfort her?”
I nodded through the watery blur. She worked magic, got the situation under control, my child quickly responding with wide-eyed smiles. My new heroine stayed with us until it was clear that we were both okay, then offered to help me to my car.
I looked at my basket, containing some highly essential items, and figured we would have to live without them until my husband got home from a work trip in three days.
My Good Samaritan helped me to the car, buckled in my near-sleeping daughter, and leaned in to give me a hug.
She gave me some very loving and grandmotherly words about being a mother, having confidence in my abilities regardless of the judgment of others. “Every parent has days like this. This too shall pass.”
Her husband, whom I had not noticed in the store, set a bag of groceries on the passenger seat. The necessities from my basket, gifted to me.
I have never forgotten their tenderness. I pay it forward at every opportunity, and teach my daughter to do the same.
