True Stories

The other day the kids and I took a walk through the woods on our neighborhood bike path. Micah discovered a semi-decomposed bone and pulled it from the rocks with a boisterous, "I found a bone! I found a bone!" 

We continued our walk, and he was prompt to show it to an unsuspecting woman walking her poodle. "Look what I found! I know it's not a whale bone and I'm pretty sure it's not a dinosaur bone. But, it might be the femur from a deer." 

The woman's eyes couldn't focus. She was torn between looking at the broken fragment of a bone, Micah's overjoyed face, and my reaction to verify that I was a-okay with my little guy proudly toting a bone belonging to who-knows-what. And, I think she was stuck on the fact that Micah's little mouth said the word femur in proper context.

I smiled. She sort of smiled back. Her poodle did a lot of sniffing. She swiftly continued her walk, with not one, but two over-the-shoulder glances back to us.

The kids helped me unload the back of the van and drag several bins and bags of outgrown clothes into a consignment store a few days ago. We heaved and hoed and got everything in without incident. We were greeted with a less than stellar welcome and I was given instructions that were entirely opposite of the information I had just gotten from a phone call to them 25 minutes prior. I was frustrated. I could have continued and agreed to consign my things to them, but since truth-telling ranks super high in my value system, I opted not to. This meant picking up all the bins and bags and heaving and hoeing to get them out of the store and back into the van.

"Mom, why are we leaving and bringing all this stuff with us?" Grady Lee asked while I did my best to remain cool, calm, and collected as three store associates stood back, arms crossed, and watched me struggle.

"Well, honey, the people working here changed their minds on the rules and I think it's best to take our things to a different store." 

"You mean, they told you a lie? They should be punished. Or, maybe we can just go buy them a Bible and give it to them. They need to learn that God doesn't accept lies."

And, yes, the three above-mentioned associates heard this entire conversation. 

My boys love to jam along to songs from Passion and Hillsong. Jam as in sing really, really loud and jump all over the place while doing it. Usually we're in the car when we have our jam sessions and it makes dancing difficult. Not impossible, just difficult. Minivans have higher ceilings than typical sedans, you know.

Just tonight, Grady decided to put several of their favorite Tomlin and Stanfill music video songs on a DVD. After dinner, we moved furniture out of the way, cranked up the volume, and got wild jamming to today's hottest praise and worship songs. Songs like an oxymoron, huh? Crazy dancing and singing while telling Jesus we love him and adore him. But it happened in our living room. And, it was A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

Like, totally.

So awesome that Grady is going to film the action next time so you can see for yourselves what a six, five, and two year old think of Tomlin's, "God's Great Dance Floor." Whewee - get ready.

These are all true stories. The details are real. The characters are real. The oh-my-word-is-this-really-happening-to-me thoughts are real. And, I happen to really think that being a mom rocks. It really does.