So I went through three boxes of Kleenex in a week. The kids helped, but it was mostly me. Mary thinks that's disgusting. And it is, when you think about the kind of nostril activity that's required to do that. Volumes and volumes.
I stopped by Walmart this evening to grab another three boxes, and there was a guy there stocking the shelves with them. He was about 50 years old, tired looking, with speckled gray beard. He had one of those chains that connects his wallet to his jeans, and he had a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket.
I just stepped over to him and asked him my question, explaining my project immediately. He looked at me for a moment, taking this in, and then he stooped down to pick some more boxes of tissue out of cardboard box on the the floor. Then he began putting those on the shelf. I knew he eventually would answer me, but he just wasn't sure what to say. Really, he just wanted me to go away.
But finally he did speak. And he spoke softly. "I can't right now. I'm working." I won't argue. But I told him I would pray for him as I walked away.
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