A few months ago, I found myself at a local grocery store looking for a chair to fold for my 2-year-old daughter, who needed one for every nap.
But my first impulse was to go buy one and not pay for it.
I was excited to buy something that could fold, so I went to the nearest Walmart, and the clerk saw my excitement and gave me a discount on the $5 I needed to pay.
I immediately called the store and they told me I would get a better deal.
“The discount will be $5.00 for the chair you ordered,” they said.
It wasn’t an offer I could refuse.
It was the lowest price I could find, and my daughter’s needs were getting more urgent by the minute.
The next day I was sitting at the kitchen table with the child, playing with the dollhouse and staring at a map.
A friend texted me to ask if I could take a break from work.
I said sure.
I walked into the living room, and there was a little girl in a red t-shirt with a big smile.
She was a toddler who was about 2, and she was in tears.
I hugged her and told her to cry.
I held her close and cried with her, and I thought she would be happy, but I was wrong.
When I looked at her, she was still crying.
She had no tears left.
I went home, got her a towel, and sat on the couch.
She didn’t have time to cry, so she sat on me.
I started to cry as well, and as soon as she was off me, I cried with them both.
As I lay there on the floor, I felt something soft and warm.
I grabbed my phone and called my friends.
They all rushed to my room.
They asked me to calm down and tell them I loved them.
But I couldn’t do that.
I knew it wasn’t a good feeling, and that I was crying because I was in pain, but there was something in my heart that said, No, this is the truth.
My daughter cried and I cried.
I tried to explain to my friends that I love them too.
I told them I love my son and my husband, and we will make it through this.
I asked them if I should tell them that I would never be able to take them to the park or go to the movies.
My friends told me that was fine.
I couldn’st take them because I love both of them.
And I couldn’t tell them about the pain that was happening in my life.
And then, I went back to work.
But this time, I didn’t want to tell anyone what I was going through.
Instead, I just kept crying with them.
I cried for the rest of the day, and when I got home, I looked up my Facebook page and saw the post about the $50 coupon that my friend had just received.
It said $5 off the $500 chair.
“You’re the one that saved me from my own heartbreak,” I thought to myself.
I didn’ t know if I was ready to give that coupon to a child in pain.
It didn’t feel right to give my child something that she would feel she had to give back to her father, who she loves dearly.
I needed a way to take care of my own pain, so when I received my coupon, I signed it, sent it to my email, and then went to Walmart to pick up the chair.
I had an hour and a half to spare before my son would need a seat and I would need to call them to arrange for them to come pick it up.
It took about 10 minutes to get there, and while I waited, my daughter was crying.
I gave her a hug and a kiss and told my friend that I loved her.
She said I can do this.
It felt so good.
It seemed like a miracle.
I waited in the parking lot for them, and finally the driver came out and took me to the store.
It turned out that my daughter had been at Walmart for just a few minutes before they called her to come to pick the chair up.
But they were waiting on her.
When she came out, she looked so exhausted.
Her legs were tired and she couldn’t walk.
She told the manager she was having a bad day, but she could still come.
I could only stare at her for a moment before my daughter cried even harder.
She took the chair and sat down.
I stood there, thinking about the love that my child had lost, and how it hurt so much that I had to bring her to Walmart.
My son had always loved to ride his bike and skateboard, and he would sit on the front seat and watch me play with the toy train he had made.
It made me so happy to have my child do something for me.
But the day that my son finally