So there Boo and I were, circling the parking lot for a spot close enough to the door so that the heat wouldn’t melt out our eyeballs Raiders of the Lost Ark style, when I spotted Him.
(To be clear, that’s Jesus, Lord and Saviour, not Jesus, migrant worker. Because, you know, there are a lot of Hay-suesses in my neck of the woods.)(Or maybe Hay-suessi?)
I have to admit that after all these years, I pictured him a little different. Like, less white, I guess. But there he was, pushing a cart with a fifty pound bag of cat food across the boiling pavement, flowing white robes billowing with each step he took. The beard, the rope sandals, everything short of a flight of Seraphim trailing after him. He looked legit.
“Look, Boo,” I whispered, “there’s Jesus.”
He thought for a second. “No, Mommy. ‘snot Jesus. That’s not funny.” Just like that. Like I had offended him or something.
“Maybe it is, baby. You never know about these things. Jesus is sneaky, like the Easter Bunny. Or Santa Claus.”
I guess that part convinced him, because Boo leaned over in his seat, flapped his arms up and down, and yelled, “HI, JESUS!” at the top of his lungs.
AND THEN JESUS WAVED BACK AT US.
Best trip to Walmart. EVER.
(Also? Jesus drives a Prius. Just in case you were wondering.)