Grocery Shopping on Christmas Eve Eve

Yes, I had to go to the grocery store on Christmas Eve Eve.

It wasn’t too bad. A could of skunk eyes, swearing on the inside and eye rolls.

I asked my friends and family if there were any prayers out there for such an adventure. My friend, Lance, posted this. I don’t know if he thought of it himself or found it somewhere. But it was spot on, perfect to how I was feeling

Thanks, Lance. And my apologies if someone wrote this. I usually post the source of things I post here.

Grant me the serenity to go to the store once more without losing my mind.

Help me to accept the things I cannot change, for there will be many of them, especially in Frozen Foods.

Help me to find a parking space, too, for that is the key to much happiness, especially if it’s close to the entrance on a cold day.

Then let security nab that guy in the Cadillac Escalade who just parked in a handicapped space and practically sprinted into the store.

There’s nothing wrong with that guy’s legs. Let them nail him good with a hefty parking ticket.

Or, better yet, let his engine blow.

Or his transmission drop out and splinter into a thousand pieces.

OK, that’s wrong. That’s a bad attitude. Peace on earth, good will toward men – yes, yes, I buy all that.

But that guy really ticked me off.

Once I’m inside , help me to be swift on my appointed rounds.

Let the store not be picked clean, let their shelves not be barren, for there are still food items I must buy, credit cards still to be maxed out.

Yes, I know time’s running out. No need to rub it in, OK?

Above all else, give me the strength to stand in long check-out lines without going bug-eyed and screaming, for that is so difficult.

Please let the person in front of me have her Visa card go through on the first shot.

And the person in front of her, and the person in front of that person, too, so that we’re not here all day.

In fact, let all our credit cards receive instant, magical approval.

And let the people paying by check have their checkbooks handy, too, and their driver’s licenses, so that commerce is conducted in a timely manner and we’re not all standing around rolling our eyes as a harried woman with a screaming kid rummages in her hand bag for five minutes, looking for her ID.

OK, while we’re on the subject: Please let there be no screaming kids in the checkout line, period.

Let there be no toddlers throwing themselves on the floor in a fit of rage because they can’t get a bag of Gummi Worms.

Let there be no 7-year-old head cases ramming their little brothers’s stroller into the cash register over and over again while his father watches and says not a word.


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