Blogs by Cynth'ya Lewis cynthyaspeaks@gmail.com
Wonder Why?
2/16/2010 10:41:19 PM
Sometimes one just has to wonder why some people see things that other people don't see....ever wonder?
Most of y’all probably already are astute enough to realize that inspiration sure can come in some uncommonly good ways to a handful of equally astute-minded people. For those who consider themselves less than “astute” then go to Wal-Mart and pick yourself up a copy of TV Guide. And since we’re on the subject of Wal-mart. . . .
Ever think of who the people are who used to own the things that are found in the Wal-Mart parking lot? There are trash cans by the doors of the place that siphoneth money from the poor and returneth to those who own Wal-Mart stock overseas… but somehow these former owners of trash like items or left-behind trinkets just don’t see the point in keeping America clean. And somewhere a native American actor is shedding a tear for a government-paid commercial and Smokey the Bear is in rehab for arson addiction.
Still, even Cynth’ya Lewis Reed gets inspired by people who leave things behind in the parking lots at Wal-Mart. Of course some may think this an odd occurrence but my family already thinks I’m odd so like I care….
Here are some of the things that inspire me to “Wonder Why”….
Dirty Baby Diapers….don’t parents know that they can reuse those Wal-Mart bags for something other than trashcan holders in the hippie van?
Cigarette Butts….why don’t folks just stick them in the ash trays? They can buy ‘em two for a buck at the Dollar Store right next door to Wal-Mart. . . .
Unfinished sandwiches….HEY, the country’s budget is going down the toilet, at least they could have flushed the uneaten sandwich down the Wal-Mart toilet since they tend to be clogged 90 percent of the time from other people’s uneaten sandwiches. Sheeh! Get with the program people! Put Joe Plumber back to work, okay!?!
Weed . . . dropped on purpose by the dude with his pants on the ground who was at the Wal-Mart on 46th and Lafayette Road in Indianapolis when the perpetrator was trying to run out the door with stolen DVDs while being chased by a rent-a-cop. . . (look this is satire, okay???! Besides the old man behind “runnin’ man” picked it up and stuffed it in his overalls to take care of his glaucoma since he couldn’t afford health insurance.
And last but not least….since it’s past my bedtime: A Red Wrist Band…that I picked up from the snow-covered ground while leaving Wal-Mart with the toilet tissue that someday we’ll invest $10,000 worth of stock ‘cause ain’t no way you can go wrong with investing in toilet tissue during flu season. . .
Story behind the wrist band: I’m gonna make this quick…wanna pop some popcorn before going to bed but not before taking my Nutraceutics Meditropin from ZamZuu:
At first, like inspiration, I ignored it….kinda like some people do to you and me. Thought “that’s not for me…” But something told me put down the toilet paper and pick up the wrist band. Thought it may have been a cuss word on it or something (people put everything on t-shirts and wrist bands these days…ain’t it a shame?)
Well, guess what it had written on it y’all? The word was (….are you ready for this….)
UNTIL. . .
Yeah… UNTIL!
Yet here is another little lesson from the Universe and the God who created it. Until my change comes; until my blessing blossoms; until things change as I continue to strive for change I have no control of the universe except that which I choose to believe that lies within the six inches between my ears.
After getting back into our warm little house and checking voice messages on the phone, I immediately took that little bracelet, washed it off with soap and water, sprayed it with some old expired Amway disinfectant that was strong enough to penetrate a gas mask, and let it air dry.
And then I thought, “Until….” See earlier that day y’all I was so frustrated with trying to get things right that just refused to go right. It didn’t matter how small the matter was I was totally thrown by the LEAST little thing in my mind.
Then I remembered that God sure does work in some freaky-deaky ways. And mine came from the parking of the store we all love to picket….Wal-Mart.
Until…for me, was a little reminder of two wonderful lessons taught to me by my parents and my grandparents; by my aunts and my uncles; and by everyone who ever was crazy enough to adopt me into their hearts:
Lesson number 1: Wait on God.
Lesson number 2: I ain’t God.
Have a wonderful day everyone.
blessin’s
cynth’ya
cynth’ya lewis reed
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